


Snapshots

by elegantmoonchild



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantmoonchild/pseuds/elegantmoonchild
Summary: What’s a story only half-told?An afternoon of reading old diaries and manuscripts turns into a lifetime of memories played before Betty and Jughead as they dig through the past. What were the moments leading up to the romance of sophomore year that stood out to Betty in her diaries, Jughead in the manuscript he wrote about his story with the girl-next-door? How did their epic love story play out for the couple beyond the events of Jason Blossom’s murder that shook the bedrock of Riverdale?See author's note on Chapter One for further description.





	1. BLUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! So excited to be back in the fanfic game. A few extra notes regarding this story:
> 
> This story begins with Betty reading the entries that describe her first encounters with Archie and Jughead at the age of six years old. Each chapter will play out a different memory, seen in the perspective of either Betty or Jughead. Obviously, this is a slow burn as they start out at such a young age, but things will mature as teenagers typically do in the later chapters. Lots of fluff and reflection. I really love the idea of two people growing up as children, becoming friends and eventual lovers/partners. These two characters lend themselves so well to that concept, and I thought it would be beautiful and fun to explore the moments before they became lovers, when they were just friends exploring thoughts about the opposite sex and themselves as they work toward becoming teenagers. I’m also a shameless fan of smut, so there will definitely be some more passionate scenes in the future as hormones begin to kick in and the maturity of both Betty and Jughead individually will combine into an incredible relationship with the potential to stand the test of time. 
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination. I hope you all enjoy!!!

\-------

**CHAPTER ONE**  
**BLUE**

The rush was overwhelming.  
\--------  


Betty was crouching down low to the ground, sorting through a box in the attic that had been marked in big, bold, black letters, “BETTY, AGE 16.” Her quest to find an old home video of a four-year-old version of herself sharing a hilarious Christmas morning with her older sister, Polly, turned into an afternoon search party for her discarded diaries from years back. 

An hour ago, after she had initially opened the pages stiffened from the years in a hardback pink journal, Betty had fallen backwards in time, reliving memories from her childhood painted before her in black ink. Once she had the taste of nostalgia, she knew the remainder of her afternoon would be spent digging up the past and scouring through her old entries. 

She sunk her hands deep into the box, searching for her old diaries. Finally the back of her fingertips brushed against what felt like a stack of hardback books all within the same shape and texture. Betty had been nothing if not consistent and precise during her growing years. Pushing away at an old scarf and a couple of scratched up cassette tapes, Betty’s hands resurfaced, clutching at five books, each with her name swirled in perfect cursive with a different time period etched on the front. The smell of the pages, filled with the mustiness of the times, brought a soft smile to her face.  


She settled back on her heels with one of the journals and dropped down to where she sat softly on a rug in the attic and turned onto a page a third of the way in.  
“The rush was overwhelming,” read the first line, and Betty thought how appropriate that the true beginning of an epic story, her epic story, was foreshadowed by this single moment, this single thought. As she read through the pages of her memories, images of those moments danced around in her brain, and she relived them in her mind.  
\---------  


The rush was overwhelming.  


Elizabeth Cooper, known to most as Betty, sped down the grassy hill of her front yard, a green expanse of wonder and thrill, while peddling atop her brand new pink tricycle. The six-year-old giggled wildly as she passed by the boy with a whirl, and all she could think was, “WOW!” The tricycle had been a gift to her from her parents, a birthday surprise wrapped up in pink ribbon and delight, and she had been excited to take her first ride. However, she was not nearly as excited as she became when she got to present her new toy to the new boy next door, a freckled-face kid with flaming red hair and a gleam of mischief in his eyes.  


Betty had first seen the boy, Archie, just hours before her birthday party the day before when she had spotted him crouching over a toy truck, with a wireless controller, willing it with words of glee and sheer demand to race up the cement driveway. His father was carrying moving boxes from the large truck parked in front of the house and stopped to ruffle the hair on the boy’s head. He made some remark that caught the boy’s attention and had him abandoning his toy, only to race inside with his arms held high, shouts of “YES! PIZZA!” escaping his lips.  


The instinctual shell of shyness engulfed Betty initially, staring down at the scene from the window in her upstairs bedroom. She loved making new friends, but she had never had a friend that was a boy. Sure, she had played with boys before. Reggie and Dilton, two boys from her pre-school camp, would chase her and her friends Cheryl and Josie across the playground. There was something about this boy, though, that had Betty hesitating. She found herself rolling the ribbon bow on the front of her party dress between her fingers, a habit her mother told her was out of nerves. Suddenly, she decided she would face her curiosity and invite the boy to her party.  


Alice Cooper, Betty’s mother, approved her request to invite the new boy, even encouraged it as Alice knew the boy’s father from school years ago. Betty skipped out of her house and inched her way over to the boy’s front door. She felt like the boy’s remote-controlled truck, she needed encouragement to scale the summit of the driveway. She finally made her way over to the front door, took a deep inhale, and pressed the doorbell.  


The door opened and there stood the boy, clutching a juice pack in one hand and sporting a red punch mustache on his face. Betty was overcome with what felt like a rush of butterflies in her tummy as the boy offered up a goofy grin, and before she could recite the invitation to her party, much less her name, the boy said aloud, “Hi there! I’m Archie. Want to come inside and play?” He shrugged his shoulders, and Betty suddenly felt like Archie was the coolest kid she had ever met.  


“Hi.” Betty smiled back widely, thrilled with the possibility of making a new friend who seemed so cool. “My name is Betty. I came over to invite you to my birthday!” She held up six fingers, showing off her age and ability to correlate numbers with digits, and shuffled to the side, back and forth, swishing around the bottom hem of her birthday dress.  


After remembering the scene from earlier, she quickly followed up with, “There will be pizza!”  


Archie offered up another red-stained grin. “Sure!”  


And that had been the beginning of their friendship. Archie had been a hit at the party, the shiny new toy every kid in town wanted to play with, but he stuck close to Betty for most of the afternoon. He even offered to let her drive the remote-controlled truck, an honor no one else at the party was privy to. Suddenly, Betty felt like she was cool because Archie thought she alone was cool enough to play with his toys.  


When she finally had a chance the next day to break in her new tricycle, Archie had joined her on the grassy hill between their houses with his own tricycle, black with green streaks painted on the side that had been scratched with normal wear-and-tear. He took the first plunge down the hill and as he marched halfway back up for another go-around, he stopped to encourage Betty to take her turn.  


And now Betty, whirling past the boy with the red hair, felt like she was on fire with excitement, speeding down the sea of green toward the sidewalk, the wind flowing through her curls of gold. Before she could stop herself, however, she clipped a rock that lay in her path, and the tricycle came out from underneath her, and she went tumbling down the rest of the hill. Once she met the yard’s perimeter, she slowed to a stop, sitting up with the force of the fall, her eyes wide with shock. It wasn’t until she felt the edge of the sting that she looked down and noticed her bare knee had been skinned from the friction of her tumble with the grass and was bleeding.  


Archie raced to where she sat and his eyes were wide with wonder. “Cooooool! Look at all that blood!” Like most six-year-old boys, he found delight in the gore of everyday accidents, and crouched down close to examine the battle wound. “Wickeeedd!” was all he could say.  


Betty felt like crying. The sting of the scrape hurt worse than the wound itself let on, but she didn’t want to appear weak in front of this boy who was acting like her scratch was the coolest thing he had ever seen. Even at six-years-old, Betty knew the best thing for her to do would be to go back inside her house and have her mother clean out the wound, bandaging up the scratch before it got worse, but there was a part of Betty who wanted to milk the moment, wanted Archie to continue to see her for the cool kid he now saw her as.  


Before she could decide what to do, a pair of big blue eyes appeared in front of her, surrounded by a face of soft white skin and jagged black strands of hair. A new boy was there, crouching down next to her, looking at her wound without the slightest hint of delight or wonder. He had a tissue in his hand, of an origin unknown to Betty, and he licked the tip of the tissue and began to softly brush at the blades of grass that clung to Betty’s scraped up skin, dabbing at the blood and dirt, doing his best to clean the scratch.  


Betty, ever the curious creature, tried to catch his eyes again, but the boy was too busy attending to her scratch. When he was done, he stood in front of her, and she was able to gaze upon him at a much richer angle.  


The boy was tall, a few inches taller than Archie, and he looked like he was all limbs. He was scrawny and thin, and his wild mop of hair was fighting to escape what looked like a beanie shaped like a crown that rested atop his head. He wore jeans with holes in the knees and a dark gray t-shirt and his hand clutched the dirty tissue. His face held a slight pink tinge around the cheeks, but before Betty could thank him, Archie sidled up next to him and threw his arm around his shoulders. The light and the dark.  
“Betty, this is my best pal, Jughead!”  


Betty scrunched up her nose at the name, and the pink on the boys cheeks deepened to a soft red.  


“Jughead?” Betty questioned. Before either of the boys could explain, two adults called out to them both, the man waving them both to the front door. Both adults had dark hair with pale skin, the man sporting a scruffy mustache and jeans splattered with dust and paint, and the woman doing her best to flatten out wrinkles in her maroon knee-length skirt. Betty took them for Jughead’s parents.  


Archie’s arm around Jughead went limp, slipping back down to his side, and he turned his attention to Betty.  


“Sorry, Betty. We have to go eat dinner. Jughead and his parents came over and we’re having burgers on the grill!” The boy was so excited, he missed the expression of disappointment that appeared on Betty’s face, sad that their playtime would be cut short.  


The two boys ran toward the front door, Archie abandoning his tricycle in the lawn, and Betty was left sitting on the grass. As she was attempting to stand, the sting of her cut still radiating around her kneecap, she noticed the blue sky above her had darkened. Suddenly, a hand reached out to her and she sat in the shadow of the boy, Jughead, who was wordlessly offering to help her up off the ground. She took the hand and together they got her up off the grass. As she stood, shaking off the blades of green that littered her jean shorts and tank top, she cleared her throat.  


“Thank you…. Jughead,” and she offered him a gentle smile, hoping the curious nature of the tone in which she said his name did not offend him.  


He looked at her, dark features softened by the sunlight that his body nearly eclipsed. Softly, almost without notice, he replied a hurried “You’re welcome” before taking off again toward Archie’s front door. Once inside, the door shut quickly and Betty was left standing in the yard, remembering the boy with the beanie and the blue eyes.  


Her mother emerged from the Cooper residence and called out to her, reminding her to bring her new bike back inside the garage. As Betty wheeled her new toy toward her house, she felt the wind brush against her scraped up knee, and for the first time since the injury occurred, she smiled at the sting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for tuning in! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. As of now, I have this planned out for 23-24 chapters, so keep an eye out for future updates!  
> 


	2. GOLD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What’s a story only half-told?_
> 
> An afternoon of reading old diaries and manuscripts turns into a lifetime of memories played before Betty and Jughead as they dig through the past. What were the moments leading up to the romance of sophomore year that stood out to Betty in her diaries, Jughead in the manuscript he wrote about his story with the girl-next-door? How did their epic love story play out for the couple beyond the events of Jason Blossom’s murder that shook the bedrock of Riverdale?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes from Jughead's perspective. As I mentioned in the Chapter One notes, each chapter will switch off perspectives between Betty and Jughead. Hopefully you enjoy chapter two! 

**CHAPTER TWO**  
**GOLD**

Who knew that a single car ride could change the course of a lifetime? 

\--------- 

Jughead stood tall in the expansive garage, the interior outlined with shelves that held containers filled with various colored liquids, crates housing tools of all shapes and sizes, and boxes with markered labels, some fresh, some faded. He scratched the top of his head, one small raven curl daring to slip from its place into his line of sight. 

After much contemplation, he reached out and sought after a cardboard box weathered with time, finding the flaps too relaxed under the old tape to provide any kind of security from the elements. Jughead brought the box down to the cement floor of the garage and dug into the interior, mindful of the possible presence of any spiders or other vermin that might choose to make a home out of the box. He had initially been seeking out one of the books he had packed up from his parents’ old trailer, hoping to find some decent reading materials to stave away the boredom that retirement so generously provided. What he found, instead, sent a rush of excitement and nerves straight to his gut. 

Directly on top inside the box sat a collection of papers bound together by straps of leather woven in and out of several holes punched into the left side of the stack. The cover page stared right back at the pair of glacier blue that met the words “Our Story,” and Jughead could tell the afternoon was already heading for an unexpected, yet thrilling direction. 

Jughead grabbed the collection, better known as his manuscript, written during young adulthood and discarded not long after, and carried it with him out of the garage and into the adjoining kitchen. His journey continued into the living room and beyond into his study, an enclosure draped in browns and burnt oranges. He plopped down onto a big, cushy recliner, the one his wife had begged him to get rid of but finally conceded on when she realized just how calm he could become when hugged by the thick brown cushions that made up the homey piece of furniture. 

Jughead looked down to see his old sheepdog, Hot Dog (the third Hot Dog he owned), at 100% comfort and as Jughead sunk deeper into the cushions of the chair, he found himself just as at ease as his canine company. He spread open the pages of the manuscript like he would the legs of an old lover, and brought them to his nose, inhaling the musk of time with an expression of nostalgic joy, a low moan escaping his lips as his eyes closed softly. 

After taking the briefest of moments to decide if taking this dive back down into the pool of memories would make for a productive afternoon, Jughead opened his eyes and flicked his fingers through the pages to chapter one, and he dove right in. 

\------- 

Who knew that a single car ride could change the course of a lifetime? 

Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, better known as Jughead to his family and the few kids he considered friends, sat in the middle of the only row of old leather seating in his dad’s 1976 F-150 truck. He glanced over to his right, beyond the lithe body of his mother, through the open window to the fast-passing fields where a world of strokes of golds and greens and blue skies remained. The teal body of the truck separated him from the freedom that he could feel, even at the very young age of six, and Jughead wondered if he would ever be able to fully taste the adventure just beyond him. 

He turned his head to the left and watched as his father sat tall and strong behind the wide steering wheel. FP Jones kept his right hand firmly on the wheel while his left sat casually on the companion knee. After sensing his son’s upward gaze, he swapped hands and brushed his right hand through Jughead’s unruly black hair, pushing back his son’s gray crown beanie during his gesture of pure paternal pride. FP was always a beacon for Jughead, the essence of American hard-working man and the image of responsibility wrapped in dingy flannel and pepper-colored facial hair sprinkled with specks of salty-white strands and flecks of dirt and dust from hard labor. 

Staring forward as he readjusted his beanie, Jughead caught sight of the Andrews house, their destination, just ahead and slightly to the right. Jughead’s mother, Gladys, reached into her purse and retrieved a small packet of tissues. She licked the tip of one and ran it along Jughead’s cheeks, quick to remove any trace of dirt from his face before they met up with company. She handed him a second tissue and instructed him to blow his nose, but Jughead was too distracted by the sight that greeted him as their truck pulled up alongside the Andrews’ front yard. 

The familiar freckled face and flaming red hair of his best friend Archie was lit up, a grin spreading from ear to ear and his hands fisted and thrust in the air as his eyes stayed glued to his playtime companion that he was cheering on. 

Sailing swiftly along the sea of green, a blonde-haired girl rode a shiny pink tricycle down the hill, the smile on her face matching that of Archie’s. Her gold waves and green eyes and her effervescent expression reminded Jughead of the mermaids painted in the children’s books he kept in his treehouse. There was something so mystifying about her presence, but all Jughead could do was press his body against the back window panel of the F-150 and watch her as she kept riding the surf of the hill. 

All of a sudden, the scene changed. Going from overwhelming happiness to an exasperated sigh, the girl was transferred from the tricycle to the yard after taking a tumble once she clipped a rock cleverly hidden amongst the grassy blades. Jughead immediately felt incensed, an emotion he didn’t quite understand, as he clenched his fists in anger at the turn of events, his entertainment at the girl’s journey across the grass cut unjustly short. 

His mother opened her door, stepping out and making room for Jughead to jump out of the cab. As he was exiting, he watched Archie race across the yard to the girl, his eyes wide in excitement like he just witnessed an acrobatic battle between a soldier and monster. 

As much as he felt the pull to join in on the moment, Jughead suddenly felt hesitant. The way the girl looked up at Archie, her bottom lip lightly trembling but a sparkle glistening in her eyes --- there was something within Jughead, whispering to him that he did not belong. He watched as Archie bent down on one knee to investigate the girl’s injury, hoping his friend would have the decency to assist her with mending her scrape. Once Jughead realized that Archie was too distracted at his own delight at her battle wound, he took a single step forward. The twinge of hesitancy remained. Jughead looked down, noticing the tissue he was still clutching within one hand. Hesitancy forgotten, he realized he held the tools to help the girl out. 

Jughead stepped forward again, this time his legs carrying him to stand directly in front of the girl. He crouched down and caught her eyes. He felt a flush begin to rise in his cheeks, a feeling unfamiliar and scary, and he quickly looked back down at her knee that sat scraped and bleeding lightly before him. He took the tissue and licked the tip, mirroring his mother’s actions from earlier, and reached down to gently clean the cut, brushing at the blades of grass and residual bits of skin that had peeled back during her tumble on the lawn. He could feel the girl’s eyes on him, and there was that flush again, creeping from his cheeks to his ears, and he wondered if the girl could feel the heat that was drifting off of his skin. 

After cleaning her wound, Jughead stood tall, turning his eyes on Archie as his friend stepped up to wrap his arm around Jughead’s shoulders in a “pal-like” gesture. While Archie worked on introducing his friend to the girl, Jughead kept his eyes glued to the grass, worried how she might react to his name. Once she repeated the name “Jughead,” a questioning tone added to her delivery, his eyes shot up quickly to meet hers, but before he could dive deeper into the origin of the nickname, he heard his mom and dad calling out to him and Archie. 

Jughead felt simultaneous relief and disappointment as he and Archie were called in for supper. While he felt comforted that the unfamiliar flush would soon disappear once he was separated from this new girl --- Betty he was told --- he also felt sad that his time would be cut short. He felt this overwhelming sense of excitement at meeting her, though not quite sure what brought about this feeling. 

After Archie said his goodbyes to Betty, he gave Jughead a look of competition, an unspoken dare to race to the front door, and Betty was soon forgotten from their thoughts. Jughead took off across the lawn, right on Archie’s heels, never quite fast enough to beat his best bud in a physical race. Once they landed on the front steps, winded and laughing at their play, Jughead suddenly remembered the girl left behind on the lawn. 

Betty’s face was tilted down toward her cut, her eyes shielded by her golden bangs. Jughead could sense she was in pain as she positioned her body to stand, planting her palms down into the grass for leverage, wincing lightly the entire time. He walked back down the hill to where she sat. In a gesture that felt entirely natural but entirely unfamiliar at the same time, he reached his gangly limb down to her, offering a hand for support. Betty glanced up at him, lost for a brief second before realizing the intent behind his gesture, and grabbed hold of his hand softly. He pulled her up to her feet and she stood, brushing the blades of grass off of her backside. 

She looked back at him, green meeting blue. “Thank you… Jughead,” she said, offering up a smile that made him blush again at both the sound of his name and the expression of gratitude she gave him. Quick to avoid further flushing of his skin, Jughead replied, “You’re welcome” before taking off for a second time across the yard. He rushed into the front door of the Andrews house and slammed the door shut behind him. He pressed his back against the door, feeling more winded than he did after his race with Archie. His body was inside the house but his mind remained out on the lawn with Betty. 

He tiptoed over to the long, thin window pane by the front door, shielded by a set of opaque plastic blinds, and slipped a finger in between two blades. He created just enough space for him to peek out, surveying the yard to seek out Betty. He found her pushing her bike along the side of the hill, heading toward the house next door. He continued to watch until she disappeared inside the neighboring garage and let loose the blinds separated by his finger. He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, before sharply inhaling again at the sound of Archie’s voice right behind him. 

“What are you doing, Jug?” 

Jughead turned to face the inquisitive look on his friend’s face and just shrugged, trying to play off the moment as cool as he could. 

“I just wanted to make sure that girl got her bike home. A ride like that is too awesome to not get snatched up.” 

It was enough to appease Archie, the redhead shrugging his shoulders as well, pivoting around to skip toward the kitchen in search of food. Jughead felt the familiar rumble in his stomach and looked down at his belly, pressing a firm hand on it and feeling the slight tremor underneath. Excitement could make a growing boy very hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was chapter two, folks! I hope you've enjoyed these memories so far. Again, I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination. 


	3. TWIRLING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Betty's memories as the three kids start to progress in age. I place them around 8 in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank those of you who have given this story kudos and for those who have taken the time to submit comments. I'm glad to hear you are enjoying the story so far, and that you're intrigued with what's to come. There's lots more ahead! So stay tuned ;) 
> 
> As a reminder, I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER THREE**  
**TWIRLING**

Betty closed her eyes softly, a gentle sigh caressing the air around her as she felt drops of wet fall playfully along her cheeks, her lips, her eyelids, her body melting into the lush grass beneath her.  


It was a typical day in Riverdale, the summer sun kissing her skin, leaving behind a happy bronzed glow. At eight years old, Betty was familiar with the ease that came with summer break, but as the weeks had progressed into August, she knew her vacation was coming to an end, this afternoon one of the last she would have for frolic and fun before the new school year began.  


She twisted her limbs and lower back into the dew that lay glistening, covering her with the spray that had shot out of the sprinkler and landed on the lawn. She could hear the voices of two boys around her, shouting out in excitement as they sprinted across the patch of the yard that the sprinkler’s spray could touch.  


“Betty, come on! Your standing in the way of our running path,” she could hear Archie tease. Betty quickly brushed at the water pooling in the divots of her closed eyelids and rolled onto her stomach. Bracing herself with her hands, she stretched back on her knees and popped up, adding a flourish with her hands as if she had performed some circus act. When she turned to face the boys, they both started laughing, giving her ten fingers apiece in their attempt at a judge’s score.  


She tilted her head back, feeling the spray once again as the sprinkler head turned toward her direction, and then faced forward, taking off toward the boys at breakneck speed. Just before she reached them, she slid down on her right foot, tucking her left behind her right ankle, as if she was sliding into home. Archie and Jughead both moved out of her way, watching with wide eyes and open mouths at her fluid movement.  


“Oh man, I can do better than that!” Archie stuck his tongue out at Betty in challenge, and her cheeks lit up like Christmas. She shuffled out of the way, crawling over to settle by Jughead’s feet as Archie lined himself up in front of the sprinkler’s path, revving his body up to build suspense. Just before taking off, he lifted his arms up, bent in a 90 degree angle and flexed, showing off the muscles a typical eight year old boy would have in his upper arms.  


The color in Betty’s cheeks darkened, and she was grateful her face was positioned away from the prying eyes of her other friend, Jughead.  


Archie sped down the path, rivulets of cool, clear water arching over him as if he were racing down a tunnel of rainbows. Betty couldn’t keep her eyes off of the boy, captivated by the way his body moved so effortlessly across the wet lawn, mesmerized by the ease he exhibited by dropping low to the ground as he worked to slide across the dew-slicked grass, paralyzed by the soft “O” formed by his lips as he called out with thrill at his propulsion under the sprinkler’s trail. Archie landed right next to Betty and gave her a wink that caused butterflies to climb and flutter within her tummy, the same ones she felt two years ago when she first met Archie.  


“Nice try, Betty, but it’s clear who the real winner is,” Archie said, pushing himself up to his feet while Betty remained frozen to the ground, willing the butterflies to settle.  


Archie looked over at Jughead. “What do you say, Jug? Think you can give me a run for my money?”  


Jughead crossed his arms across his chest and stared down at Archie with pure male competition, his extra few inches of height giving him a slight edge over the redhead. Just as he was about to send a witty retort back at Archie, the three of them collectively turned their heads toward the sidewalk as a loud rush of giggles erupted.  


Ginger Lopez and Cheryl Blossom, two girls from their elementary school, were walking along the sidewalk in their direction. They stopped just parallel to the group and Ginger sent Archie a sheepish smile and flirty wave. Archie was quick to take the bait, his grin reaching to his ears, and he jogged over to the two girls.  


Ginger was a tiny brunette with large doe-like brown eyes, her facial expressions shy yet suggestive. Her friend Cheryl stood confident with fire engine red shining off her locks, her body showing the first stages of pre-pubescent curves. Her attempts at flirtation were less subtle, but her interest in Archie was clearly weaker than Ginger’s. She barely paid mind to the two of them and only engaged in small pieces of conversation, more concerned with the state of her fingernails than Archie’s shirtless body.  


While Archie did his best to work his comedic magic over Ginger, Betty sat on the grass and stared, feeling a slick ball of nausea slide down from her chest into her stomach before climbing back up into her throat. She looked away, hoping to will away the feelings of jealousy that were swiftly arising. She found these feelings only appeared when Archie was engaging with another girl, his attention less on her and more on basically anyone of the opposite sex in their class.  


Finding her strength, she pushed herself up to stand. She turned to face Jughead, hoping to lessen the tense air around her and return to the fun they were having before Ginger and Cheryl appeared. She could hear Ginger’s giggles increase, accompanied by the light chuckling of her best friend and neighbor, and she felt her shoulders immediately stiffen.  


Jughead was watching her and Betty hoped he couldn’t see how upset she was becoming, jealous at Archie’s flirtations with Ginger and disappointment at their fun cut short. She looked up at him, her eyes caught briefly by the imploring blue that stared back at her, and felt the sudden urge to shake out her concerns, comforted by the fact that another of Archie’s friends was with her and he had also been abandoned in favor of Archie’s flirtatious nature.  


Over the past two years, after meeting both Archie and Jughead that fateful day on Archie’s lawn, Betty had spent nearly every free moment with the boys, sometimes just Archie, mostly both as she found Jughead spent a great deal of time hanging out with the redhead. Their friendship had blossomed into a stronghold, one untainted initially by the growing knowledge that boys and girls had differences that were sometimes mocked by their classmates. Unmarred by the teasing, Betty made sure the boys never forgot her in their play, pushing herself to meet them measure by measure in all of their activities, whether that included foot races in the backyard or water balloon fights in the driveway.  


However, even in her attempts to prove herself an equal to Archie and Jughead, Betty could see the keen differences between the two boys.  


Archie, her best friend, loved playing sports, always the first one to suggest some sort of physical activity when the three of them got together. He delighted in games where they portrayed knights with toy swords, soldiers with wooden guns, or sailors searching for giant prey in the sea. Most of the time, Archie demanded Betty play the princess figure in need of assistance, however Betty was firm that while the boys could try to save her, she would always find a way to save herself, not wanting to be pigeon-holed into the position of damsel. She had to admit, though, she sometimes found delight in Archie’s gallant efforts to storm the tower of his backyard wooden playground set in order to save “the fair princess” from the beasts from below.  


Jughead was neither a lover nor a fighter to Betty. He played sidekick to Archie, throwing in his best effort at portraying a worthy soldier or knight, but he was less interested in the art of rescuing damsels for kisses and more curious with the beasts they were planning to slay. Though he was never without his crown beanie, Jughead was less the prince and more the dragon that would reach up from the floorboard of the play-skape and try to grab Betty’s ankles. Her never cared if she played princess or pirate, and only seemed interested in making sure she played with them period. As they got older, Jughead would sometimes abandon their games to settle on the lawn with a book he procured from the school’s library, and Betty would find herself alone with Archie in their fight to save whatever pretend character they were rushing to protect.  


Archie was her confidante, her friend she could confide in when she got into an argument with her older sister, Polly, or when her parents disciplined her for a less than perfect grade. Archie was aww-shucks, fun and friendly and caring, and always had a big smile and firm shoulder for her should she need comfort.  


Jughead was less approachable for those matters, but he had proven to always be the light in the dark storm that jealously brought when Betty was around an over-friendly Archie. Jughead was always willing to play along with any games Betty tried to engage him with when Archie had turned his attention to other people not in their clan of three, and in a way he proved himself a better friend in those moments. Betty guessed that if she were ever in a position where she might need someone to cry to, Jughead would be a suitable friend to reach out to. He was probably an even better person to speak to, as Betty felt less self-conscious with her thoughts around Jughead than Archie, her crush on the latter clouding her ability to be 100% open with all of her thoughts.  


An idea came to Betty and she reached out to grab Jughead’s hands, slick from the spray of the sprinkler.  


“Just follow my lead, Jug,” she commanded and sent him a determined glance, seasoned with mischief and underlying excitement. She wrapped his fingertips within her fingertips and began side-stepping to the right, increasing her speed with each rotation.  


Soon, they were twirling and facing each other, glee plastered across Betty’s face. That flushed feeling she felt for Archie began to creep up into her cheeks as she watched Jughead’s face turn from confused animal caught in headlights into one of wild abandonment, a smile she rarely saw grow on his face with each circle they ran into the malleable grass beneath them.  


Just as Betty was contemplating what the flushing meant in this moment with Jughead, their play was interrupted by a quick screech of tires next to the yard. FP had pulled up in his truck and was reaching over, rolling down the window of the passenger side to shout out to Jughead.  


“Jug, come on! Your mom is at the hospital with your Mamaw. Your baby sister will be here soon!”  


Betty could see FP’s face was pink with excitement, a smile spread across his face that she didn’t think could be tarnished. After she and Jughead had slowed down their movement and stopped, she turned to see his face was still controlled by the same smile he had during their twirling. She could feel the nervous and excited energy rolling off of his skin in waves.  


He turned to her and she thought she detected the slightest trace of disappointment in his face. “Sorry, Betts. To be continued!” and he rushed off toward the cab of the truck, yanking the door open and thrusting his wet body onto the passenger seat. He threw a hand out the window and waved back at his two friends as FP sped off down the street, the truck disappearing around a turn half a mile down the road.  


Betty stood watching their departure and barely noticed Archie approach from the side, Ginger and Cheryl nowhere in sight.  


“Where’d Jughead go?” Archie asked as he turned his head toward the blonde. She just kept her eyes staring down the street, the phantom image of FP’s truck and Jughead’s smile replaying in her mind.


	4. SOMETHING NEW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Jughead's manuscript, picking up shortly after Chapter Three.
> 
> I appreciate all of the kind kudos and comments you've given me. It's been a very long time since I've been on AO3, so I'm not sure if I can reply to the comments you send in, but please know I see them and am so thankful for them all. I love that other fans are interested in the backstory of Jughead and Betty that's not always talked about on the show or in the comics. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter! 
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER FOUR**  
**SOMETHING NEW**

\-------

Brother.  


The word was so unfamiliar to Jughead. For the past eight years, Jughead had been the sole child of FP and Gladys Jones. That’s not to say he was spoiled --- he had merely become comfortable with the amenities that a single child status provided. He had his own toys. He had his own room, the only spare bedroom in the trailer he shared with his parents. He had his very own treehouse in their lot at the trailer park.  


In a way, Jughead already had practice in having a sibling. Archie had become something of a brother to him throughout their years together. They had known each other practically since birth, with Jughead born just days before Archie.  


FP and Archie’s dad, Fred, had grown up side by side in junior high and high school. They had even collaborated in a garage band and had met their future spouses during their glory teenage days. Fred met Mary, Archie’s mother, the night of the Battle of the Bands their junior year, where Mary was working backstage to organize the order of the band performances. FP, on the other hand, had known Gladys as a neighbor in the trailer park, though he was a handful of years older than the dark-haired next-door beauty. Meeting their prospective partners only brought the teen boys closer, and eventually after their respective weddings, the two friends partnered together in a local construction company and began producing sons.  


There was always an air of friendly competition between Fred and FP when it came to any developments between their children. Archie had been the first to take his steps, reaching out for Mary one morning across their carpeted living room. Jughead had been the first to say any words, reaching out for his shaggy white sheepdog named Hot Dog, combining the two words to a barely audible “Hog.”  


Both boys had their own distinguishable personalities, though. Archie was the kid who loved social sports, tossing around softballs and footballs with Fred in the backyard. Jughead was the boy who enjoyed the advantages of social silence, burying his attention in stacks of books encouraged by Riverdale Elementary’s K-6 grade reading program.  


Despite their differences, Archie and Jughead remained close, finding the subtle strengths in their contrasts. They always found a common interest that kept them entertained, their company over the years becoming less about sharing toys and more about sharing stories and secrets and the memories that formed childhood. Once Betty had joined the mix, the twosome became a party of three, and that had been enough for Jughead.  


Adding a sister to his life made Jughead feel overwhelmed, crowded in by one-too-many people in the small space in his heart he felt comfortable sharing with others. As he stood facing the glass windows that looked inward at a large room filled with several bassinets, Jughead wondered if life would ever be the same. Would the little bundle of wriggling pink flesh in the bassinet before him change life forever? Would he still have his own room? Would he still have his own treehouse? Would he still be in charge of his own toys and books and pets?  


FP came to stand beside his son, and placed a firm hand on Jughead’s shoulder. The expression on his father’s face looked very similar to his own, and Jughead wondered if FP was just as apprehensive about the newborn in front of them. As if FP could read his son’s mind, he broke his gaze away from the baby and peered down at Jughead, a small smile replacing apprehension.  


“It’s time you became a big brother now, Jug. This is a big responsibility for you, but I know you can handle it.” He crouched down beside his son, and gripped his shoulder a bit tighter. “Your mom and I need you to step up in a big way --- help around the house, show your sister how to be a strong Jones kid. The world won’t always be on our side, but she needs to know she has a friend in her corner. Be that strong friend, that big brother, that she’ll need, Jug.”  


With those final words, FP ruffled the top of his son’s head before stepping away and walking down another hall, presumably to see Gladys in the post-delivery hospital room.  


As Jughead stood reflecting on his father’s words, his gaze returning to his new sister, he heard twin shouts of excitement and sneakers squeaking on freshly waxed linoleum flooring behind him. He turned to see Archie and Betty rush to his side, Archie pressing his palms against the glass and Betty bouncing on her toes, anxious to congratulate Jughead on his new sibling.  


Fred followed behind, holding onto a jacket that belonged to Archie with one hand, his other hand tucked casually into his jeans pocket.  


“Hey, Jug. Congrats on becoming a big brother.” Fred reached down and patted Jughead on the back of the head, a gesture similar to his own father’s. He peered into the nursery and spotted the Jones girl before them. “Forsynthia, huh?”  


Jughead turned his head back and up to face Fred. “Yeah. We’re gonna call her Jellybean, though.”  


Fred chuckled lightly and let out a tired sigh.  


“Well, kids, I’m going to find Jughead’s dad. You stay here with Jughead and stay out of trouble. Remember we’re in a hospital. There are sick people here.” He turned on his heels and followed the path FP had taken earlier, disappearing around the corner and leaving the three kids behind.  


Archie, still glued to the nursery window, spoke up. “Sick people? You think there are any cool sick people here? Like with big wounds and blood and guts and all that cool stuff?” He let his hands drop from the window, whispering “wicked,” his thoughts on areas more interesting than screaming babies.  


Jughead and Betty ignored Archie, though it was obvious he didn’t notice the brush-off. He fished into his pockets and reeled in a dollar in change. “Jug, my dad gave me some money to get some candy from the machines. You want some?”  


Jughead shrugged his shoulders back at Archie, still preoccupied with his own thoughts about the new baby. Archie took that to mean “sure,” and raced off to find the candy dispensers down the hall by the waiting room.  


Betty stood next to Jughead, her green eyes fixated on the baby girl in the bassinet with the name “JONES” written out on a notecard and tapped to the front. For a moment, Jughead turned his eyes to face her, and he wondered exactly what it was about this baby that kept her captivated. _Maybe all girls just liked babies?_ Betty never seemed like the rest of the girls Jughead knew from school, but maybe there were things about her he didn’t know, as this baby made him feel like he didn’t even know himself. He turned to focus back on the infant.  


“What if I’m not a good brother?”  


Betty quickly turned toward Jughead, her head tilted slightly as if she had been taken aback by his imploring tone. He could sense that she was doing her best to formulate some perfect response to his predicament, an anxious energy he recognized by the twiddling of her fingers he could see in his peripheral.  


Eventually, in pure Betty Cooper fashion, she reached up on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on Jughead’s cheek. The feeling was so feather-like, he would have thought he had imagined the whole thing, but he knew not to be surprised by the gesture. Betty was anything if not compassionate and kind to her friends, and somehow she was the only one who knew how to calm the storm of thoughts within Jughead’s overclocked mind.  


Jughead knew if he turned to look at Betty, his face would break out in blushes, but he felt so warm and comforted by her presence, he reached over to grab her hand, still fidgeting nervously by her sides. Initially, he felt her tense up at the action, however she relaxed so quickly, the moment was barely recognizable. She followed through by lacing her fingers in between Jughead’s and squeezed lightly, a signal of care and camaraderie, and for the first time since arriving at the hospital, Jughead let himself smile.  


If Betty was like all the other girls, maybe the baby girl in front of him wouldn’t be such a bother.  


“You’re going to be a great big brother, Jug. You’ve always looked out for Archie. You’ve always looked out for me.” Betty squeezed his hand again, sending a pulse of positive energy straight to his heart. “Just don’t let her watch that movie with all of the samurai sword fighting and the blood.”  


Jughead chuckled as Betty wrinkled her nose, the memory of their last movie night at Archie’s house haunting her mind with the horror of witnessing gore for the first time on tape. It had been Jughead’s turn to supply the movie, and the cinematic appeal held by his father’s classic movie collection did not expand to Betty’s interests.  


“Deal,” Jughead replied, and Betty squeezed his hand for a third and final time before releasing it as Archie came running back, clutching a handful of colorful balls of bubble gum. He stopped right behind the pair and opened his hand wide, offering up the pieces of candy to the two of them. Betty selected a pink ball and popped the bubble gum sphere into her mouth, chewing down quickly with a soft expression of delight as the sweet sugary flavor burst beyond her lips onto her tongue. Jughead picked a white ball, presumably a mystery flavor, and grimaced when he discovered it was merely peppermint. The three of them laughed and joked, sampling the gumballs while taking nondescriptive bets on the flavors of each piece.  


FP and Fred turned the corner, Fred’s arm slung around FP’s shoulders as a casual sign of brotherly affection. The two men came to stand in front of their filial counterparts, almost as a reflection of the future to come for the two boys.  


“Arch, it’s time we take Betty back to her house. It’s almost dinner time.”  


Jughead shuffled his feet, anxious about being left behind without his friends. Archie looked back up at his dad, chin jutting out, his eyes getting wide as a plan was quickly concocted in his mind.  


“Can we go to Pop’s and get burgers? And milkshakes? I want a chocolate shake!” He patted his stomach in an effort to show off how hungry he was. Fred sighed, but eventually gave in, running his hands through his hair with exasperation, ready to do what he needed to get the kids out of the hospital.  


“Can Jughead come too? And stay the night?” Archie passed a glance to Jughead, and the dark-haired boy knew this might be their last chance to stay up all night playing games before the summer was over. As much as he knew he needed to help out with his new baby sister, Jughead wanted one more night to spend unconcerned with the pressures of being a big sibling. Plus, the promise of burgers and shakes turned Jughead’s stomach into a rumbling symphony of hunger.  


Fred turned to FP, looking for his reaction. FP shrugged and replied, “That would actually be a big help, Fred. Gladys is so worn out, plus this will give me a chance to get some rest tonight in the room with her.” He reached into his pockets and dug out a ten dollar bill before handing it over to Fred. The latter pushed aside the cash, offering up the explanation of a “treat” to celebrate the new big brother in Riverdale.  


FP instructed Jughead to behave before saying goodbye, and Fred led the three kids out of the nursery wing. The last bits of sun outside offered warm relief from the cold sterility of the hospital, and Jughead was filled with the anticipation of juicy hamburgers and strawberry shakes and salty crinkle-cut fries. He climbed into the back of Fred’s four-door Chevy truck and waited as Betty settled in next to him.  


During their trip to Pop’s, as Archie remained preoccupied with switching radio stations and Fred kept tapping his fingers along the steering wheel to whatever Archie decided to play through the speakers, Jughead stared out the windows.  


Life was always changing --- Jughead knew this.  


He felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of his head, and turned to face Betty’s stare. After the briefest of moments, she smiled at him, reaching over to pat the top of his hand with the palm of her own, before turning to face the world beyond her own window.  


_Maybe,_ Jughead thought, _change wasn't always so bad._


	5. WORDS NO ONE CAN KNOW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is coming from Betty's diaries, and the kids are in the fifth grade. I tried to remember how I spoke as a fifth grader (it's been... Hell, it's been way too long for me to remember what the fifth grade felt like), but also consider Betty and Jughead's characters. I think of both of them as the more aware, more mature of the core characters in Riverdale. Hopefully this scene demonstrates that correctly.
> 
> Just a heads up, I may not be able to post another chapter for a couple of days, hence why I posted two today. I'm so glad to hear how well you all enjoyed the scene with Jughead and Betty at the hospital after JB's birth! I hope you enjoy this next memory as they grow older together.
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER FIVE**  
**WORDS NO ONE CAN KNOW**

\-------

Betty Cooper had always had a competitive streak. It was clear and red and ran thick through her actions every time she was faced with any sort of opposition. From a young age, her mother Alice had taught her the value of coming first.  


To be the first in sack races at the annual Riverdale community picnic. To be the first in a local dance competition at Riverdale’s Little Gems Dance Studio. And now, to be first in the fifth grade Rockland County Bi-Annual Spelling Bee.  


“Alright, Betts. Medallion.”  


Betty scrunched up her face in thought, her fingertips brushing lightly inward toward her palms. Jughead sat beside her on her bed, legs folded Indian-style, a paper list with several multi-syllable words clutched tightly in his hands, obscured from Betty’s line of sight.  


Betty remembered the sting of disappointment she had felt when earlier that afternoon she first asked Archie to help her prepare for the Bee. He was standing in his living room with her, fidgeting slightly, scratching the top of his head in a gesture of nervousness. He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood and Betty knew he was about to let her down.  


“Sorry, Betts. I have baseball practice tonight. We’ve got a big game against the Haverstraw Hammers coming up this weekend. I need to work on my pitching arm.” He had made an obscenely obvious gesture with his right arm, spinning it in circles, rotating around the socket with a mock pitching motion.  


Betty knew any argument she could make would be for naught. Archie was just as competitive in his athletic activities as she was with practically any competitive event. She knew baseball was very important to her friend, and that was enough for her to drop the issue.  


Later that afternoon, Betty had called Jughead, standing in the kitchen, twirling the phone cord in between her fingers. She had asked him to come over and quiz her on her words. There had been a reward in it for Jughead, the promise of a hot lasagna dinner and ice cream cones, and she knew she had him hook-line-and-sinker. Her dark-haired buddy had always been a sucker for good food, and her mother Alice Cooper always made the best meals on the block.  


Just after five, Jughead had rode his rusted, albeit well-intact bicycle over to her house, dropping the bike off in the side yard between her and Archie’s house. He always wore the same style of clothing --- holey jeans, black or dark gray t-shirt, and flannel long-sleeve layer, sometimes overlaying his t-shirt, sometimes tied around his waist in a nonchalant effort to stay cool. Despite his very casual wardrobe --- and her mom’s tendency to snub anyone who looked like they groomed less than seven days a week --- Jughead always had a welcome spot at their dinner table. For all of her mother’s faults, she never once mentioned the state of Jughead’s attire, ignoring the patches of dirt that somehow managed to stay glued to his cheeks. Alice’s way of dealing with his appearance was to simply add an extra napkin to his place at the table, and instruct _both_ kids to wash up before eating.  


The two of them sat at the dinner table, gabbing about Mrs. Peffer’s new class guinea pig Buttons. Betty had giggled, remembering the way the soft fur of the critter felt as Buttons nestled into her cradled arms during their afternoon break.  


“That thing is so small, I bet Hot Dog could eat it for breakfast!” Jughead exclaimed before quickly turning away, hiding his blush and embarrassment at what he had just said. He snuck a glance over at Betty, worried he had upset her since it was obvious she had a burgeoning affinity for the classroom pet.  


Betty had seemed unfazed, if only mildly taken aback by his boyish nature. She was so used to Archie mindlessly reciting phrases such as these, it no longer bothered her. The one difference that she could recognize was that Jughead seemed to be painfully aware of what he had said.  


They continued conversing about matters of recess, music class, and the spelling bee. Betty picked at the pile of saucy noodles and cheese on her plate and she had to restrain her laughter at Jughead, amused at the pace in which he devoured his supper. By the time Betty finished her dinner, Jughead was finishing his second heaping helping of lasagna.  


Always one with room for dessert, Jughead dug into his ice cream cone with the same intense fervor as the pasta, and Betty could only fight to contain her fit of smiles while licking at her own ice cream scoop.  


After supper, Jughead had joined Betty in her room, the two of them resting comfortably on her big four-poster bed covered in layers of thick baby pink sheets and quilts. She remembered the first time Jughead had been in her room, just a few years back. She had been given an Easy Bake oven for her birthday, and she wanted to impress the boys with her cooking prowess. Her first attempt had been laughable, coming out burnt resembling something other than cake. However, with some encouragement (mostly from Jughead, who had been promised something edible and wanted that delivered), Betty had managed to whip up a scrumptious mini round chocolate cake that she had frosted with packaged icing and decorated with tiny, round rainbow sprinkles.  


The memory made Betty grin as she dug the Bee word list from her backpack, handing it over to Jughead, nervous about her progress so far with spelling each word with minimal error. If Jughead was aware of her anxiety, he was considerate enough not to say.  


“Medallion. M – E – D – A – L – L – I – O – N. Medallion,” Betty supplied. Jughead nodded his head firmly.  


“Nice job, Betts. Okay, here’s one: advertisement.”  


Betty responded back with the appropriate letters, spelling the word succinctly with no error. It was a word she was familiar with, after all, as her parents both worked in journalism and she had seen the term floating around the office of the Register, the local paper owned by her family.  


Jughead chuckled. “Are you sure you need my help, Betty? You’re so smart, I don’t know how you could get any of these words wrong.” Betty thought she detected the hint of a flush around his cheeks and ears.  


Betty suddenly had the urge to twiddle her thumbs in her lap. Though she was used to striving for perfection, genuine compliments were still hard for her to accept.  


“Thanks, Jug.” Placing manners before nerves, Betty looked up and flashed him a big smile. “And thank you for coming over to help me. I really appreciate it. Since Archie was too bus—“  


Jughead cut her off. “Archie? You asked Archie to help you first?” There wasn’t anger in his voice, but Betty heard something new in his tone, something foreign from her previous interactions with Jughead. Based on his facial expression, he looked just as surprised at his reaction.  


Deciding to dip a toe in unfamiliar waters, Betty piped up. “Is… is that okay? It’s just --- it’s just because he lives next door. I thought it would be easier for him to walk over. I know --- I know you’re always so busy helping out with Jellybean.” She looked down at the fingers in her lap, their twiddling picking up pace as her voice trailed off, her lips pursed and leaning to the right. “I didn’t want to be a bother…”  


She could feel Jughead soften beside her, the tension in his muscles minimizing with every second that passed in silence between the two of them.  


Betty returned her gaze to her friend, motioning with a nod of her head toward the list, an unspoken request for him to finish his quizzing. The look Jughead gave her back, though, made Betty realize his intent was anything but finishing the words off of the list.  


“Do you --- is Archie more of your friend than I am?” Jughead’s face was colored boldly in shades of pink and red, but his voice held minimal confidence. She could tell he was fighting the urge to look away, but it seemed like he was trying to get out something important, something he had been holding back on for a while.  


Just as Betty was prepared to reply, though still unsure of what to say, Jughead continued.  


“Do you like Archie?” His voice became more strained and he started fidgeting, crossing his arms over his chest before letting them fall limply to his sides, and folding them back over again, an air of frustration in his movements. “Like --- do you like him, like him?”  


Betty turned away, suddenly interested in smoothing out the wrinkles in a handmade pillow by the head of her bed. She could feel Jughead’s eyes burning a hole into her. Softly, she muffled, “I don’t know.”  


The silence grew and this time the tension between them didn’t dissipate.  


Before either of them could continue, Betty’s older sister Polly had popped her head in from Betty’s bedroom door. Looking at the physical --- and sensing the emotional --- distance between Betty and Jughead, Polly cleared her throat before speaking.  


“Umm, Betty? Can you make sure to keep Caramel out of my room? I’ve asked you a million times. She keeps getting hair on my dance uniform.” Polly opened the door a bit wider, allowing a bright orange tabby cat to wander in, before shutting the door on the tense scene before her. The cat, Caramel, took a small stroll around the front of the room before spotting the bed. She leapt up onto the soft quilt spread and meandered over to Betty, rubbing her body against Betty’s back in an effort to draw some much desired petting. Betty barely acknowledged Caramel, reaching back to offer one long stroke across Caramel’s body before coming back to continue smoothing out the pillow wrinkles.  


Betty, deciding to face the music, turned slowly toward Jughead. Before she could say a word, however, he stood up quickly, dropping his hands down to his side, acting as if he had just been burned by the bedspread.  


“I just don’t get it, Betty.” He shook his head feverishly. She waited for him to continue, unsure of where he was going with this conversation, not sure what she should and should not reveal. Jughead was one of her best friends, but he was also Archie’s best friend and had been for years before Betty came into the picture. As much as Betty felt she could trust Jughead with the secrets of childhood, she wasn’t sure if she could quite trust him with matters of the heart where it concerned Archie.  


Truthfully, Betty had known for years there was something deeper that she harbored for her next-door neighbor, a torch she carried for him that burned incredibly bright. Ever since those first butterflies appeared, Betty knew her feelings for Archie would never be normal like the ones she might have for her other male classmates like Reggie Mantle or Dilton Doiley. She could admit that she also felt differently for Jughead than she felt for other boys, but it was different. There weren’t these exciting waves of wings constantly fluttering in her tummy every time she saw him. Sure, she had felt them before, though rarely, with Jughead, but mostly she felt a slow burning sensation throughout her body, causing her fingers and toes to tingle lightly. She had always assumed it was the excitement of being around someone she felt so close to, someone she could share stories and secrets with.  


She never dreamt her feelings for Jughead would be anything other than friendly.  


Jughead was still facing her, his hands now on his hips, standing bent slightly from the waist, peering down at her, searching, yearning for answers from her, answers she didn’t think she even had.  


After a tense five seconds that felt like five hours, Jughead let out a loud, exhausted sigh and stormed out of Betty’s bedroom, leaving her alone with her swirling thoughts and Caramel’s incessant attempts at fishing for affection.  


Just moments after Jughead had fled, Betty still left wondering what she had done, what she had said to upset her friend, the light across the way flickered on, a sign that Archie was home from practice. She looked up and saw his wave from his bedroom window, a tradition they maintained every night before bed.  


Betty smiled and waved back, all questions concerning Jughead out of her mind. She didn’t realize that, in that very moment, she had gotten her answers.


	6. YOU MAY ENTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Jughead's chapter, set a few days after the events of Chapter Five. I want to thank you all again for your comments. I love seeing you guys get so excited about knowing what's to come for our OTP! I hope you enjoy the latest installment. 
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination. 

**CHAPTER SIX**  
**YOU MAY ENTER**

\-------

There was something so exhilarating about looking down from the height of a tree to the ground far below. Ever since FP had called Fred Andrews over to help construct a treehouse in the lone tree standing in the yard of the Jones’ trailer park lot, Jughead knew he’d always have a place to shelter him from the horrors of the world. 

FP and Fred had decided to put their skills in construction to good use, crafting a large space out of 2’ x 4’ boards, old aluminum sheeting, and a collection of nails and screws left over from a job site. They wanted to build a space for their sons to play and create and bond, much like they had done during their childhood years. After a few grueling afternoons under the Riverdale sun, the treehouse had been completed the summer of their seventh birth year, and Archie and Jughead had sought refuge in the shelter ever since. 

Most weekends, the two boys would gather under the treehouse to play some sport or run about the Jones’ yard, searching for rocks to skip at Sweetwater River. Then, they’d climb the wooden steps nailed to the tree, entering the treehouse through a circular hole in the flooring, carrying sandwich bags filled with chips and fruit slices and sandwiches crafted by either Gladys or Mary. The boys would spend hours sharing snacks, exchanging action figures, lording over the trailer park from their tower high above the surrounding trailers. They felt like the kings of the neighborhood, like they were invincible, untouchable. 

The only threat Jughead could see that could compromise the integrity of their wooden fortress was Archie’s budding curiosity with the opposite sex. The older the boys became, the more interested Archie grew in becoming friends with the girls of Riverdale. There were times he would walk his bike over to the trailer park with Ginger Lopez or Midge Klump accompanying him, expecting passage into the treehouse that had become a sacred sanctuary for Jughead. He was not interested in girls joining the ranks of treehouse inductees. 

It’s not that Jughead distrusted girls. It’s not as if he hated girls, for that matter. After all, one of his best friends was a girl, though he always felt like Betty had been a cut above the rest, her personality not like the others with curls and dresses and playful giggles in his class. 

Jughead just wasn’t comfortable giving passage to anyone other than Archie in his treehouse. The fort had been built, after all, for the two of them by their fathers. It only seemed appropriate that the two of them remain the only inhabitants of the treehouse. Eventually, the boys had made a pact that it would just be the both of them that would be allowed to enter, and that had been the end of that situation.

Not that it had been an issue yet, but even Betty hadn’t been granted access. They never specifically told her she was unwelcome – she just happened to be conveniently involved in other activities when the boys made their way to their preferred hangout spot. Jughead wondered if Betty purposely made herself busy, fearing rejection should she ask them for permission to play in the tree fort. 

The thought of Betty made Jughead’s face break out in pink patches, humiliated at his own behavior from a few nights before when he was supposed to be quizzing her for the spelling bee. He had confronted her about her friendship with Archie, and had dared to take it a step further, pressing her on matters he wasn’t even comfortable with. Why did it bother him so much that she relied so heavily on Archie for help, for fun, for friendship? She looked at both boys as friends, though deep down Jughead knew Betty looked at Archie a bit differently. 

He could see that twinkle in her eye, recognize that nervous twitch she had when she was around the redheaded boy. He could hear the hitch in her voice when she spoke to Archie, the excitement that stirred within her when someone mentioned Archie’s name or when she knew he was coming over to play. _What's so wrong with that?_ Jughead was clueless as to why something that did not involve him directly affected him so deeply. 

Jughead heard the clearing of a throat and turned to see Archie staring at him, long abandoning his two tussling action figures to fixate on his best friend who seemed lost in thought. Jughead did his best to play off the moment with a light chuckle, quickly conjuring up easy conversation to keep Archie from discovering where his thoughts had taken him. 

“Do you really think Superman can defeat Batman? I mean, sure – he’s got the super human strength, but Bruce Wayne has all of those really cool gadgets.” 

Archie looked down at the red-caped action figure in his right hand and the black-caped action figure in his left, examining them carefully, newly intrigued by Jughead’s proposition. 

“Yeah, but – I mean, come on, Jug. No one can defeat Superman. He’s not even human. He’s an alien with super powers. That’s, like, way cooler than any gadgets Batman can make.” Jughead laughed at his friend’s response, just glad to have moved on to a lighter train of thought. 

“Well, what about Wonder Woman, huh? She’s not entirely human either. Do you think _she_ could beat Superman?” 

Archie shrugged, considering the notion for a moment. “I suppose, though she’s a girl. They don’t fight nearly as rough.” 

Before he could help himself, Jughead let it slip, “Well, what about Betty? She’s tough. She can fight just as hard as we can.” He left it more as a declaration than a question, though he was hoping Archie wouldn’t see right through him. He knew he was making it obvious, his admiration for Betty. The more he spoke about her, the more he let slip out of his mouth and trickle around his thoughts, the more he realized how much he cared about Betty. 

The more he came to understand exactly why her closeness to Archie bothered him so much. 

Archie laughed off Jughead’s comment, and the raven-haired boy was grateful that Archie remained ignorant. “Yeah, but it’s Betty. She’s not like other girls.” 

Jughead perked up at his friend’s response and decided to keep fishing for information. “What do you mean?” 

Archie just shrugged. “I mean, she likes to play boy games just like us. We’re her best friends. She just – she doesn’t seem like most girls. She doesn’t really care too much what she looks like.” He set the Batman figurine in a wooden crate inside the treehouse and reached inside the box for his worn leather baseball glove. 

Jughead cast him a sideway glance, pressing further, “Do you think she’s cute, though?” 

Archie’s head snapped up, and Jughead was worried he might have gone too far. Almost as soon as he had reacted, Archie brushed off the thought with another shrug. “I don’t know, I guess. I guess I haven’t really thought about her that way.” 

And suddenly Jughead felt sad and mad at the same time. He knew this entire time, Betty had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Archie and it seemed like Archie had not taken the same consideration for her. He knew she’d be upset if she heard him say that, though Jughead was disappointed she had wasted her time on a friend that didn’t think about her the same way she thought about him. The same way Jughead thought about Betty. 

And then he knew – Betty was closer to Archie because she had feelings for Archie. He knew because he, Jughead Jones, the quiet kid from the trailer park, had feelings for her. 

As if by fate alone, the sound of Betty’s voice came calling out from below. Both boys peered out of a window their dad’s had carved out, Jughead’s hair falling loose from his beanie and into his eyes. By the time he had tucked the strands out of the way, Betty was waving with both hands, a pleading smile on her face. 

“Can I come up?” 

Archie looked over at Jughead before looking back at Betty. “I don’t know, Betty. We’ll have to consult the high council on this one.” He stood back and grabbed Jughead by the back of his t-shirt. 

“What do you think, Jug? Should we let her in?” He pointed to the sign they had made for the treehouse that read, in big bold black letters, “NO GIRLS ALLOWED!” 

“Rules are rules, right, Jug?” Jughead scratched his head. He hated being the one to make decisions. 

In the end, he shrugged, giving the wooden sign a casual glance before looking back at Archie. “I mean, you said it yourself. Betty isn’t like most girls.” He smiled lightly as if the matter was no big deal. “I don’t think she’d do any damage, Arch. Come on, it’s Betty!” 

Archie looked like he was considering the invitation for a moment before giving in. “You’re right.” The two of them leaned back over the window opening. 

“Sure, Betty,” Archie called out. “Come on up!” 

Betty’s smile grew and she reached out for the tree steps, working her way up to the top before slipping into the treehouse, careful not to get splinters through her jelly sandals. Archie offered a hand to help her up, and she took it, a faint blush painting her skin. Jughead turned away, a twinge of frustration reaching down to his toes. 

“What’s going on, boys? Got anything fun up here to do?” The boys exchanged glances, a slight roll apparent in Archie’s eyes, before he turned to Betty. “What did you have in mind, princess?” He stuck his tongue out at her and she giggled. 

“Well, we’ve got a couple gloves here and a ball, a pack of playing cards, and some toy soldiers.” Archie laid out the options. “We could play ‘Go Fish?’” 

Betty looked to Jughead, and they both nodded, satisfied with the plan. As Archie was digging out the cards and shuffling them together, Jughead took a step closer to Betty and nudged her side with an elbow playfully. 

“You know, we’ve never had a girl up here before.” He motioned to the sign that hung on the tree. Betty seemed apprehensive at first, possibly because of their confrontation earlier in the week, but then her smile turned into one of encouragement, as if she knew the honor this meant in their circle of three. She stood just a bit taller. 

“Thanks Jug. Glad to be ‘cool enough’ for you two,” she joked. 

Jughead suddenly got an idea. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a pocket knife his dad had given him some weeks ago. He stepped next to the tree trunk that held the “NO GIRLS ALLOWED!” sign and whipped out one of the knife blades. He reached out and carved in deep letters, “EXCEPT BETTY.” 

The blonde-haired girl pressed her lips together, a blush creeping up slowly across her cheeks. She sent Jughead a sheepish grin and bumped her hip against his, a playful gesture that took him by surprised. 

“Thanks Jug.” 

Betty stepped away and joined Archie, sitting Indian-style, as they waited for Jughead to complete their circle around the stack of cards.


	7. ONE OF THE BOYS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes from Betty's memories, in the summer months just before the beginning of seventh grade & junior high. Thanks again for all of the compliments and kudos. I'm feeling the love, you guys!!! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
> 
> Also, just to let you know, the time will start to progress a bit quicker from this point. I'm thinking the midpoint of _Snapshots_ will take place during their sophomore year, which is when the first season of "Riverdale" takes place. There will be some fabrication, or rather small additions from my imagination, sprinkled into the story line, though I will do my best to maintain the integrity of the show we love so much.
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination. 

**CHAPTER SEVEN**   
**ONE OF THE BOYS**

\-------

“Jughead, come on, stop being such a slow poke!” Betty called out behind her before she faced ahead, staring down the concrete path before her. The wind rushed through her locks of ribboned honey, the four o’clock afternoon sun caressing the skin exposed from her tank top and jean shorts.  


She sat atop her new polished purple bicycle, surfing along the sidewalk like a bird careening over the ocean surface. Though it was a far cry from her pink tricycle, the bike’s ride was no less exhilarating.  


Archie raced alongside her, the breeze sending his strawberry strands back in waves, and Betty glanced over to watch him with an excitement shivering down her spine. _We look so much like a couple right now, side by side._ Betty shook her head. She knew she had to keep from getting too ahead of herself emotionally, worried she might overcompensate in her riding abilities from the surge of adrenaline and tumble into a surrounding lawn. Suddenly, Archie sped off ahead of her, and she was left alone in his dust with her thoughts.  


Jughead pulled up next to her, slightly out of breath, as he had worked to catch up to her.  


“Damn, I don’t know how Archie does it,” he panted out in between short breaths. Betty giggled at his use of the cuss word. Now that they were weeks from starting seventh grade, moving in to take over Riverdale Junior High, his vocabulary had become slightly more adult. The propriety hammered in from years of Cooper grooming kept Betty from expressing her own grown-up vernacular, however she still took enjoyment in hearing words like “damn” and “shit” roll off of Jughead’s tongue.  


“Not all of us can lead the pack, Jug.” She looked forward, watching Archie’s backside getting further away from the two of them. Turning back to face Jughead, she smiled, “Some of us have to stay behind with the weaklings.”  


Jughead chuckled, caught off guard by her sudden case of wit. He replied with an accent similar to that of a character in an old western movie. “Don’t you know? I’m a lone wolf, Betts. I don’t need no pack,” and with that, Jughead had culled a final burst of energy and excelled beyond Betty, thick pieces of his black hair flapping against the side of his face, his beanie keeping the rest tucked underneath.  


Betty laughed, always up to a challenge. She threw her body forward onto the front of the bike, and picked up the speed in her pedaling. She reached the boys in mere seconds, levelling up beside them, and they both looked at her, astonished.  


Once they hit the end of the block, the trio diverged from the sidewalk to ride in the middle of the street, nearing the park ahead on the horizon beyond a row of old cypress trees. Their destination emerged, a field marked with pockets of dying grass, fading white chalk lines, and a perimeter of aging rusted chain-linked fencing. Once a place for kids and adults alike to gather and kick around giant rubber balls, racing from base to base in the hopes of scoring a home run, the field was now becoming an eye sore, abandoned by time and minimal community upkeep.  


Still, there was magic here, an expanse of space for the kids of Riverdale to let their imaginations run wild.  


Betty, Archie, and Jughead rolled from concrete to grass, racing into the park with shouts of excitement and competition in the air. They had planned to drop their bikes off at the back of the field, where a row of trees separated the grass from the wooded area with a trail leading toward Sweetwater River.  


Each of them wore a backpack filled with outdoor goodies. Archie was in charge of the flashlights, the compass, and the bottles of drinking water. Jughead brought his pocket knife and library book that covered “The Legends of Riverdale,” along with a map of the trails that ran along the river. Betty carried a sack filled with an assortment of sandwiches and a smaller bag containing the still warm chocolate-chip cookies she had baked earlier that morning. Always the one thinking ahead, Betty also packed a can of bug spray and a tube of sunscreen. Each of them wore their own swim suit.  


The plan was simple: hike down the trail to the river and spend the afternoon splashing around, enjoying one of the last days of summer before a new year of classes and teachers and activities filled up their weeks. They had discussed having a picnic for dinner, and going on an adventure when the sun dipped low, though Betty was still unclear about that part of the plan. Apparently, Archie and Jughead had been sharing stories about some legendary figure that resided in the woods, and they wanted to investigate further. Always down for a good mystery, Betty was ready to tag along.  


Once they had slowed the bikes down to the edge of the field and dismounted, they laid the bikes down in heavy brush, hiding them from sight. Jughead pulled the map out of his backpack, and the three peered over the paper, trying to figure out how long their trek might take. Archie eventually gave up, throwing his hands in the air.  


“Who cares, guys? If we get lost, it’s all part of the adventure, right? The river will still be there.”  


Betty had to smile at him, attracted to his sense of spontaneity and adventure. Suddenly, she felt like being a little less “Betty” and being a little more open to the “what if” of the endeavor.  


“Well, let’s go, then!” Betty trekked forward, gripping the straps of her backpack. The boys exchanged a quick glance before following behind her.  


The three of them wove through dense green maple trees, leaves already turning red around the roots in preparation for the Fall. There were a few times Betty nearly lost her footing, but she was determined to keep up with the pack, not wanting the preconceived perception of her gender to fill the boys with the idea that she couldn’t handle the trail.  


_That she couldn't be one of the boys._  


As much as Betty wanted Archie to see her as someone other than a boy, wanted him to see the small traces of femininity that had blossomed from the beginning of the summer, she also didn’t want their three-way friendship to change. She had seen, had heard the way the neighborhood boys discussed girls like Cheryl Blossom and Josie McCoy, who exhibited such fierce feminine features already at their age. She didn’t want Archie and Jughead to suddenly discover they couldn’t include her in their rough-and-tumble adventures.  


Finally, they arrived at an opening in the trail, leading to a riverbank covered in soft sand and small pebbles. They each found a little nook on the beach for their belongings and stripped down from their travel gear to the bathing suits they wore underneath. Betty could feel a pair of eyes staring firmly at her, and she turned around to see Jughead glancing her way, hand frozen on top of his beanie.  


Mistaking his blush and lack of movement for apprehension, Betty encouraged, “You can take your beanie off, you know? Neither of us will make fun of you if you happen to be bald underneath that cap!” She giggled at the way Jughead blushed further. She knew he had a full head of black hair under his prized crown beanie, but she loved to tease him about it, nonetheless. It was sort of _their thing._  


Jughead looked to the side, seemingly deep in thought, and Betty watched as he finally lifted the beanie off of his head, followed by the dark gray t-shirt he wore emblazoned with a capital “S.” Betty was taken aback slightly by the sight of Jughead, shirtless and shy. His skin was pale, dotted with a few black freckles scattered across his chest, and it looked smooth enough that Betty nearly reached out her hand to brush her fingers across him.  


Just beyond Jughead, Archie had pulled his white t-shirt over his head and tossed it casually to the side, and Betty had suddenly forgotten about the urge to touch Jughead. No matter how many times she had seen Archie through the window path they shared from their bedrooms, she still couldn’t keep herself from blushing and daydreaming about the way he might feel against her own skin. He was already starting to fill out, his muscles peeking out from the skin around his abdomen, forming ridges that looked firm and soft at the same time. Those evening practices and weekend tournaments for the community little league football team had begun paying off.  


Though they still had not had formal sex education classes yet (those were scheduled for this coming school year), Betty was still somewhat familiar with the idea of sex, and she found herself wallowing in the indecent fantasizes of what she could do with her next door neighbor, should she be given the chance. She had thought about kissing Archie for a few years now, even remembering the first time she gave him a small peck during their childhood years when he stood up for her on the playground one day. Her thoughts had gone beyond the days of innocent pecking, and she had experimented with the reverie, while laying on her pink quilted bed one afternoon, of Archie climbing a ladder up to her bedroom, sneaking in while she was sleeping, and crawling into the sheets with her. She could imagine the way his arms, thick with tense muscle, would stroke up and down her skin, how his lips might travel beneath the dip of her neck above her collarbone, how his fingers would creep down below her belly button, inching toward the elastic band of her panties…  


“Earth to Betty!” And just like that, Betty was snapped out of her fantasy, and she could feel her face was enflamed in red. She turned to address the voice that had called out to her, and could see the look of confusion and slight annoyance that made up Jughead’s face. She glanced over at Archie, whose innocent look of “aww shucks” made her feel guilty at her indecorous ideas involving him.  


“Sorry, I was just thinking how cold the water might be now that the summer is almost over,” Betty lied. She had to spin some story to deflect from the real one she had been weaving in her mind.  


“No time like the present to find out!” Archie yelled back hurriedly before taking off down the tiny beach and into the shallows of the river, sending beads of water flying in his wake. Betty followed, tiptoeing quickly through the sand, heading straight for the spray. Before galloping into the deep end, she turned to wait for Jughead.  


“You coming, Jug?” She held out a hand casually, waving toward her and Archie and the river. The water was just cool enough to distinguish itself from a bath, still inviting and gentle despite Archie’s splashing. Jughead was slow to advance, hesitation noticeable in his movements. Betty knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of swimming in water he couldn’t see in. She sent him an encouraging smile before turning and taking a dive into the river.  


By the time she had surfaced, Jughead was creeping through the shore, inching his way into deeper waters, and Archie was swimming in small laps, going a short distance before coming back to join the other two. He began splashing Betty and Jughead, challenging them to join in on some water games. Betty giggled and did her best to shield herself while Jughead retaliated, scooping water up with the power of his entire right arm and sending it crashing back toward Archie.  


With Betty keeping her head down low to avoid water getting into her eyes, she caught a glimpse of her chest, rising and falling with the breath of exhilaration, her newly blossoming breasts under her top suddenly more noticeable as the material of her bathing suit top clung to her skin. She looked up and caught Archie staring exactly where she had been staring.  


_Maybe being one of the boys isn’t all it’s worked up to be._  


Archie suddenly dipped down below the surface, disappearing into the murkiness. Moments later, Betty could feel the pull from a hand beneath her, latched on tightly to her right calf. She dunked down, quickly catching a breath before the plunge. When she came up for air, Archie was laughing at her playfully.  


Her excitement at having quality flirting time with Archie was cut short when the expression on his face suddenly went from mischief to shock, his body sinking into the water with a quick yank, the top of his flaming red hair doused by the waters of the river. When he popped back up, he searched for the culprit and locked eyes with a newly surfaced Jughead, drenched from the head down in water, his hair hugging the sides of his face.  


Betty was surprised, knowing how much Jughead feared the unseen depths of the river. He gave her a knowing look, and suddenly Betty thought how grown up Jughead had become since the beginning of the summer. He was always all limbs, but his chest had filled out, his skin still the creamy pure pale that she had been mesmerized by earlier. His arms had a bit more definition, curving up into biceps that hadn’t been so prominent in the Spring. His eyes, always blue, were darker now, almost as blue as the deepest, most hidden parts of the river.  


She shot him a smile and a thumbs up, with an accompanying wink, thankful for him coming to her rescue, though still a little disappointed that she hadn’t been able to flirt in the moment with Archie.  


“What the Hell, Jug? I thought us boys were supposed to stick together!” Archie cried out.  


Jughead just shrugged and said something else that took Betty by surprise. “Yeah, but Betty’s one of us, too.”


	8. SWING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by Jughead's memories. A bit more "angsty-Jug" but still lots of sweet fluff between our OTP. Lots of the supportive Jug we've come to love! I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**  
**SWING**

\-------

Yelling. Shouting. Hurling accusations, followed by hurling something breakable against a wall. For the past three years, Jughead had been privy to it all under the roof of his parents’ trailer.  


It seemed like ever since Jellybean was born, his parents had taken a strong dislike to each other, their discord more and more evident as the days went on. One evening, Jughead had overheard his parents discussing, in harsh hushed tones, about his father’s now lack of job. FP had been canned from the construction company he shared with Archie’s dad, though Jughead couldn’t make out through the conversation exactly why this had happened. His mom was going on and on about FP’s inability to care for their growing brood, Jellybean just barely old enough to eat jarred baby food and still in diapers.  


The bills were growing. The children’s needs were expanding. The joy just wasn’t there. All of those excuses had been playing throughout the walls of the trailer like a broken record, keeping time with the same note that carried on from a hushed whisper to a dull roar that never went away.  


Jughead lay in bed, staring up at the flimsy looking ceiling of the trailer. The sheets he had since he was a kid still covered his bed, and he lay tucked underneath the top sheet, clutching the edge close to his chin. Subconsciously, he reached over to the side table with an old rocket bedside lamp and found his beanie before putting it on. Swaddled by both the sheet and the beanie, Jughead felt as much sanctuary as he could muster within the hothouse that his childhood home had become.  


Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. An hour. Jughead didn’t know how long the arguing had gone on for. He knew he couldn’t take much more of it for tonight. Thrusting back the covers with a heavy sigh of frustration, Jughead threw himself out of his twin bed. He gathered up a pair of tattered old jeans and slipped a long-sleeve flannel top on over his sleep shirt.  


He tiptoed over to the crib that had been converted to a small bed that rest in the corner of his room and peered over the top to watch the sleeping toddler breathing deeply in and out. Jughead was grateful that Jellybean slept soundly. He gazed down at her with a look part envious, part pity. She had years ahead of her to deal with the torment that came with hearing his mom and dad fight. He could only hope her nights of deep sleep would go on as long as possible.  


Jughead opened his bedroom door as softly as he could, trying to determine where the location of tonight’s argument was taking place. _Shit,_ he thought. The verbal tussle came from the living room. He knew the front door was not an option. Jughead turned his head to the left and found total silence. He quietly reached back and grabbed a pair of old sneakers by the bedroom door. He stepped out into the hall without a sound, sneaking back toward his parents’ bedroom, temptation to look back on the scene of the argument no longer present after years of fights.  


He found the window in the bedroom closest to the front side of the trailer and maneuvered it open. He was no stranger to sneaking out. Ever since his parents had begun their nightly ritual of shouting matches, Jughead had found ways to break free from the uncomfortable mess that remained in that trailer. Some nights he found solace in his treehouse, curling up under an old quilt with a flashlight and a good book, something to distract himself from the reality below. Some nights he would cart an old bedroll down to Sweetwater River, carving out a space in the woods for him to sleep under the stars, imagining himself a lone ranger on the run from the tyranny of a small town.  


Other nights, he would seek out the comfort of a cot on the floor of his best friend’s bedroom.  


Despite their vast differences, Archie had always been a rock for Jughead, weighed down with integrity and loyalty, all the things Jughead thought a normal American family should contain. No matter what obstacle they faced – new friends on the playground, sports, the new rift between their fathers – Archie was always present for Jughead, always around to pat him on his back, listen to his woes, and find some way to distract him with games and snacks.  


_Even Betty,_ Jughead allowed himself to think. Despite his feelings for Betty, and knowing how Betty felt about Archie, he didn’t allow them to get in the way of his friendship with Archie. _Integrity and loyalty,_ Jughead reminded himself. He had to exhibit the same values if he wanted them back in return.  


Jughead slipped over to his bike, tied down to a pole by the front of the trailer. He took out his pocket knife from his back pocket and cut the bike loose, straddling it and pedaling off into the distance.  


The night breeze was freeing, an immediate sensation of being set loose from the chains of his family. He sped through the neighborhoods of Riverdale, passing under street lamps and whizzing by cars parked in a single row up and down the sides of the streets. He flew by homes, some still lit up with warm yellow lights shining through front windows and upstairs casements. To Jughead, they each looked more like sanctuary than a church would, and he had to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall as he realized his home no longer felt like that.  


He slowed down as he rounded the corner to Archie’s neighborhood. He felt like walking the block, somehow delaying the questions he knew Archie would ask. He slung one leg off of his bike and started the walk toward Archie’s porch. His eyes wandered from house to house, wondering what the individuals behind each front door were doing. _Were they happy? Were they sleeping? Were the adults slinging hateful words at each other, cloaked by the privacy of their well-enforced walls?_  


His eyes strayed to his right, near the entrance to the neighborhood park. It wasn’t as expansive as the trails of Sweetwater River, but it was appropriate, perfect even, for the size of the neighborhood. There were picnic tables off to the side, two grills available for community cookouts, and as the centerpiece a giant playground surrounded by sand and small rocks, complete with a slide, colored swivel blocks, and a three-piece swing set. He could hear the squeaking of old rusted chains and turned to see Betty sitting on one of the swings, propelling herself back and forth, a look of distance on her face.  


Jughead had to take a moment to admire her from afar. She was beautiful, as breathtaking as the first swing upward toward the sky. Her hair was loose, a look Jughead had rarely seen, the waves of blonde illuminated under the moonlight, appearing as strokes of a paintbrush on the canvas of the night sky as she soared up and down, front to back. The pajama pants she wore flapped loose around the legs, caught in the breeze of her propulsion, peppered with speckles of color, and she was enveloped in a light blue sweater.  


Feeling the sudden urge to join her, he wheeled his bike over to the bike rack that stood by the edge of the playground. He must have caught her off guard, hearing Betty’s quick intake of air and the jostling of her swing, the clanging of chains echoing through the nearly empty park.  


“Jughead! You scared me,” she called out to him as he positioned his bike upright against the rack. He turned around and shot her a sheepish grin.  


“Sorry, Betty. What are you doing out here this late, anyway?” Jughead looked down at the watch he wore on his left wrist, confirming the time at 11:45 pm. He sidled up next to the playground, claiming the swing next to her. Plopping himself down, his legs brushed the ground casually, his body moving back and forth just light enough for there to be movement at all. He gripped the chains holding him up and turned to her.  


“Betty… still waiting…” he allured, wanting her to open up. He could sense she was holding back, watching her fidget in the swing. He looked down to see their feet, matching in the way they dug into the ground. He heard her clear her throat softly before she spoke.  


“I just – isn’t it so peaceful out here?” Jughead turned his head and watched as she set her legs free from their anchor in the sand, her body rocking forward and her head tilted back. Her hair flowed down toward the ground like a waterfall of gold.  


He continued to sit in silence, knowing Betty enough to know she’d get out what she needed to say in her own time.  


“I love the quiet, the calm of the park when it’s this late at night. There are no screaming kids, no lines for the slide,“ then Betty hesitated, “no overly concerned parents.” She released the hands gripping the chains to the swing. “This school year’s been kind of tough, Jug.”  


Jughead snapped his eyes up to hers, interested in her change of topic. “What do you mean? You usually do so well with school work.” He chuckled. “Hell, you’ve even successfully tutored Archie, which basically means you’ve found a way to out beat our teachers.”  


Betty smiled, though the compliment wasn’t enough to carry the grin north of her cheeks. He could see something heavy was weighing on her.  


“Betty, what’s been going on? You know you can always talk to me.” Betty held his gaze, as if she were searching for some message between the circles of color in his eyes. Then, just as quickly as the moment had occurred, it ended with Betty turning her eyes skyward.  


“I know, Jug. Like I said, school’s been rough. I didn’t realize how hard this advanced history class was going to be, and my grade – my grade in literature has been slipping.” She drug her fingers through her hair, and he could see the bottom of her lips trembling. “My mom – she just doesn’t understand how hard it can be… how hard it’s been. There’s just been so much pressure.”  


Betty took a deep breath in and for a moment, it seemed to stop the threat of tears that beckoned in her eyelids. “Do you think life ever gets easier, Jug? Or do you think it just keeps getting harder? The crap pile just keeps growing until you’re so buried, you need more than the shovel you’ve got to dig yourself out?”  


He chuckled at her analogy, but straightened his body, letting out a contemplative sigh. “I don’t know, Betty. I don’t know if life has ever really been easy to begin with for anyone.” She caught his eye and he was quick to blush, worried his demons were going to bleed into their conversation. With all of his frequent late night visits, it was basically a requirement that Archie know the basic horrors about his home life, but Jughead was strict with himself when it came to Betty. He didn’t think he could deal if she knew about the skeletons piling up in that trailer.  


Hoping to deflect from his own personal garbage, with the added benefit of reassuring her, Jughead reached out for her hand. “Betty, I know shit feels bad right now. But you’ll get through it, and if you ever feel like you’re buried too deep in the mess, I’ll be right there with my shovel to help dig you out.”  


Betty looked down at where his hand rested atop hers. She kept her eyes there for a moment and he could feel the heat rise along his neck and cheeks. Her thumb crept up from underneath his and she began to rub the top of his hand. Her eyes began to travel up his arm at the pace she set with her thumb on his hand, and eventually she trapped him in her gaze.  


He never noticed just how green her eyes were, how much more green they became when they were wet with the creation of tears. Her lashes, dark and lengthy, fluttered up and down. Her skin had been sprinkled with freckles from the summer months before, now fading with the arrival of winter. Her lips, soft and small in appearance, were parted just slightly, just enough to give him pause and consider what it might be like to fill that space with his own lips. Almost as if reading his mind, Betty filled the space herself, her tongue creeping out to trace along the lines of her mouth, leaving it glistening, enticing, enough to create a ball of warmth that slid slowly down the lines of Jughead’s stomach to below his waistline.  


His eyes sought hers once more and he watched as she surveyed every line, every crevice, every crease that formed the frame of his face. She stuck her sight on a lone piece of his black hair that had tumbled out of his beanie. Almost without thought, almost as natural as a breath, Betty reached out with her free hand to tuck the strand of hair behind his ear, brushing her fingers along the side of his face, sending a spark of electricity shooting down his spine.  


The air around them seemed to increase ten degrees and the space around them grew even more silent. Jughead forgot they were in a neighborhood park, forgot it was nearly midnight, forgot why he was even there.  


Forgot that Betty’s mother was only steps away from where they sat.  


He heard Alice Cooper’s call out to Betty and he watched immediately as her body stiffened, her eyes dropped to the ground, and her hand snapped down to her side. He lifted his hand off of hers, fearing the arrival of Alice Cooper, upset that he let his fear of her mother taint the moment they just had and the moment that could have been.  
Betty slowly rose to her feet, and Jughead could tell she was thinking what he was thinking.  


_I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want to go home._  


“It’ll all work out, Betts,” he uttered, hoping she’d grasp the double meaning. _School will work out. Life with your mom will work out._  


_You and I will work out._  


Her head tilted slightly to the right, a look of intrigue on her face as a reaction to the new nickname that sprung from his lips. Suddenly, he had something just for her, just from him. No one else – her mother, her sister, Archie – could claim that endearment.  


“Have a good night, Jughead,” she whispered before trudging back toward her house, toward the sound of her mom’s voice, toward the source of her anxiety. She twirled around at the last minute before the exit of the park, sending him a final wave and a smile.  


Jughead realized that if Betty could find the strength to march into her own battlefield, he could try to be just as brave as she was.  


He climbed back onto his bike, pushed off from the rack, and raced back toward home.


	9. HORROR NIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter from Betty's memories, aged during 7th grade. I tried to write some of these memories as small ones, little memories that, in the moment, may not seem wildly important, however it's the little moments that sometimes flesh out the bigger picture. I like to think that Betty especially looked back on some of these memories with a new perspective (one after several romantic years with Jughead) and realized the entire time how much Jughead was truly there for her, truly the one she should have been crushing on from such a young age.
> 
> Anyway, enough rambling! Enjoy chapter nine!!!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER NINE**   
**HORROR NIGHT**

\-------

Beads of sweat began to gather around Betty’s temples. The firm pressure from her palms kept her eyes blinded from the sight before her. She could hear the screaming, hear the gasps for air. The atmosphere around her felt tense, anxious, and all she could do was wait for the moment to die down.  


A loud banging, dramatic music, and someone next to her jumped, reverberating through the couch cushions. She peeked through the spaces in between her fingers and watched the screen fade to black, and the credits began rolling. She peeled back her palms and straightened up on the couch. Everyone around her in the living room began to uncurl from their taut postures.  


“Bad. Ass,” she could hear Archie accentuate. “That movie was awesome!” She could see him pumping a fist into the air, the bottom hem of his t-shirt riding up just above his waistline. His face was overjoyed, the kind of expression you’d expect from a boy obsessed with typical boy stuff: blood, guts, gore, and zombies. The appeal for the “Living Dead” movies was lost on her, but if it meant an evening with an excited Archie, a possibility of being close to him, Betty felt she’d be able to handle the marathon.  


Fred Andrews had given his son the freedom of a Friday night to host a scary movie marathon in the living room. Archie was allowed to invite a handful of friends over for thrills, chills, and all the theater fixins’, including popcorn, sugary soda, and an assortment of candy. The parents of the guests gave their kids each a handful of dollars, and they all chipped in for a couple boxes of Petey’s Pizza for supper.  


The movie marathon was to be a late-night affair, one of the firsts for the developing seventh graders, and the swirling hormones basically dictated the feel of the evening. The seating arrangement was everyone’s hidden priority, hoping to be paired up next to their school crush, looking for an excuse to cuddle up during a scary scene.  


For the first movie, Betty had the unfortunate circumstance of being stuck next to Reggie Mantle on the couch, who quickly wedged a spot in between her and Archie on the couch while Archie was getting up to grab an extra slice of pizza from the kitchen. She made it her goal to have snacks prepared in advance, positioned, and in place for the next movie so that she would be closest to the redhead.  


After the credits finished on the first film, Archie was prepping the VCR for the next tape, queuing it up to press play after everyone was settled with their snacks. Reggie and Jason Blossom, the tall lanky twin to Cheryl Blossom, decided to let loose the energy they had pent up over the last ninety minutes by breaking out in a pillow fight. Tina Patel and Ginger Lopez sat by the edge of the living room, giggling wildly at the show of testosterone. Betty padded over to the kitchen area, careful not to slip on the tile with her socks. She was in a rush to pop the next bag of popcorn while refilling the bowl she carried with a collection of gummy worms and Sugar Babies. She ripped off the plastic lining around a folded up sheet of buttered corn kernels, and she threw the collapsed bag into the microwave, slamming the door shut and setting the timer for four minutes on high. She anxiously tapped her fingers on the counter top, waiting for the sounds of the kernels inside the microwave to stop popping.  


Her eyes were glazed as she zoned out, allowing herself a moment to give in to another absentminded daydream about Archie. This time, she pictured herself deeply entranced in the horror flick, brave enough to watch with her eyes uncovered, as Archie sat next to her, enraptured by her fearlessness. Just when a zombie would pop out, inches away from its next unsuspecting prey, her body would betray her by jumping with fright, and Archie would suddenly have his arms around her, quick to extinguish her fear. They would look into each other’s eyes longingly before Archie leaned in to plant the perfect first kiss, unaware of the crowd around them. He would lay her down on the couch and soothe her with more kisses along her nose, her jawline, her neck. His hands would caress her gently, inching down from her shoulders to her bre—  


“Ready for another cinematic gem, Betts?” Jughead appeared beside her suddenly, breaking her from her reverie. He had taken to calling her the nickname ever since their late night at the park, and she had to admit she had taken quite the shine to it. There was something so easy about the way it came out in his voice.  


Betty shook off the thoughts that had been led astray beyond the kitchen into the living room, and turned to the microwave just before the timer went off. When she opened the microwave, a cloud of smoke followed.  


“Oh no!” Betty exclaimed, clearing the smoke away with her hand.  


“Looks like someone burned the goods,” he shot her an impish grin. Betty laughed, preparing another bag to toss into the microwave. She leaned her head into the doorway, trying to assess the current situation in the living room, hoping the coveted spot next to Archie would be vacant.  


Jughead seemed to catch on. “Looking for someone, or are you just that excited for the next installment of a night filled with the undead?”  


Betty shook her head, looking back at Jughead, trying to play the moment off with a light chuckle. “I honestly don’t know how I’m going to deal with another movie filled with entrails and eyes popping out of their sockets.” She laughed, “Seriously, how did Mr. Andrews approve of Archie’s selections this evening?”  


Jughead shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m to blame.” He fiddled with his beanie. “I’ve been really into these George Romero films I found in the public library. And you know how Archie gets when he hears about anything dealing with blood and guts.”  


Betty chuckled, turning to grip the microwave door handle, ready to pry it open as soon as the kernels stop popping. “Yeah, I know. Who would have thought the average American teen boy would be so obsessed with gore?” She looked back behind her shoulder at Jughead, and the two of them exchanged a sarcastic grin.  


Betty yanked open the microwave door and pinched the corners of the popcorn bag, careful not to burn herself. She angled the opening away from her face and pulled it open. A cloud of hot air escaped, and the scent of salt and butter wafted around them.  


“Good job, Betts. I was starting to worry you lost your cooking abilities,” Jughead chuckled. Betty knew how much Jughead appreciated her cooking, though her skills were still somewhat novice. He was always a willing taste-tester, slightly more willing than Archie. She was glad their friendship didn’t hinge on her popcorn popping abilities.  


Betty dumped out the old unpopped kernels from the previous movie and poured the contents of the new bag into the large bowl. Jughead snagged a piece and popped it into his mouth, a smile of satisfaction inching up his face at the warm and welcoming taste of salt. Betty snatched the bowl before he could prematurely devour the movie snack and grabbed the candy dish, carrying both delicately into the living room while Jughead followed behind.  


She stopped softly in her tracks, the feeling of disappointment threatening to expose itself on her face. Flanking Archie on the couch sat Reggie and Tina, and the latter seemed to be drawing Archie’s attention entirely. The redhead watched with wide, curious eyes as Tina joked and tossed her black hair casually over her shoulders, landing a hand on Archie’s bicep, remarking on how big his muscles were. Betty had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes.  


Surveying the living room for a spot to land, the only spot unoccupied that was within eyesight of the scene on the couch remained the patch of carpet by the foot of the recliner, where Jughead sat curled up, currently fishing for a handful of Junior Mints stuck to the bottom of the box, Archie’s dog Vegas resting comfortably on the other side of Jughead’s feet.  


The polite partygoer within Betty would dictate that she strategically place the bowls of treats around the room, spreading the snacks to all hungry guests. However, a stripe of agitation was working its way up her spine, and she stubbornly decided to cart the snacks over to her spot by Jughead, deciding he’d be the only one she’d be willing to share the goodies with.  


She plopped down, curling her legs to the right, folding up into herself.  


“Everyone ready to start the movie?” Archie called out, ever the loud and diligent host. Once everybody signaled they were ready for the next selection in the cinematic fright fest, Archie pressed play and bounded back to his spot on the couch next to Tina. Despite the onset of the beginning credits and introduction into the horrifying world of the undead, Archie and Tina continued with their teasing, and suddenly Betty found a sight more frightening than the film that was playing.  


For the next forty-five minutes, Betty kept glancing from the corner of her eye at Archie and Tina, small waves of nausea rolling around in the pit of her stomach. The popcorn and candy were left neglected beside her shortly after the beginning of the movie, however Jughead saw to remedy that, and now nearly half the bowl of popcorn was gone, along with the bulk of the gummy worms.  


Betty let out a sigh, hoping it would be taken as a reaction to the movie, though she knew better. This night had not gone as she had hoped, as she had expected. They were sliding into the spring months of their first junior high experience, and Betty knew there’d be a dance coming up shortly after Spring Break. She had envisioned this evening as a kick-off for her and Archie, hoping a fun night of flirting might springboard into an invitation to the dance, though currently it seemed as if the partner she dreamed for was too busy metaphorically dancing with someone else.  


She felt a hand land lightly on her shoulder, the warm breath of another tickle her left ear.  


“Don’t worry about them, Betty. Once tonight’s over, I bet Archie won’t even be thinking about her,” Jughead whispered. Immediately, Betty became flushed.  


_Oh my God, does Jughead know? Have I been this obvious? How much does he know?_  


Betty tilted her head back and sent Jughead a questioning glare. Like most occurrences, she could tell that Jughead was reading her mind as he leaned down, following up with the confirmation she sought. “Don’t worry, Betts. I won’t tell anyone your secret.”  


“Jug, how did you know?” Her blushing began to spread down the length of her neck. She started to turn inward, curling even tighter into herself, embarrassment slipping into every crevice of her insides. “Am I that obvious?”  


“I’m just a very observant person, Betty. I think your secret is safe with the both of us.” She felt him stiffen up behind her, though she couldn’t guess why the topic would cause him to be so tense. “Plus, Arch is a blockhead. Tina’s not that cool, anyway.”  


Betty chuckled, knowing he was trying to cheer her up. “Jug, you don’t think anyone is cool.”  


Jughead gasped sarcastically, “My word! How could I ever give you that impression?” Betty looked up at him and they grinned at each other.  


“But seriously, Betts. I don’t hate _everyone_. I don’t hate Archie,” he whispered, taking a second. “I don’t hate you. Honestly, you two are probably the coolest people I know. Besides myself, of course,” he ended with a chuckle.  


Betty hesitated for a second, anxious how Jughead might react to the change in tone that was crawling around the thoughts in her head. “Why do you think I’m cool, Jughead?” She turned to sneak a glance at Archie and Tina, feeling anything but cool.  


“Oh, come on, Betty – you’re incredibly bright, wicked smart, super funny.” Jughead suddenly became very interested in Vegas, reaching down to pet the dog. “Plus, you’re way prettier than Tina.”  


Betty could see the color rise on Jughead’s face, though it wasn’t nearly as red as the shade she was turning. “You – you think I’m pretty?” she whispered.  


Jughead slowly turned his head back to her, locking eyes, his face abnormally serious. “Well, yeah… Betty, I –,“ but he was cut off by the screams of their surrounding friends, a swift reaction to the carnage erupting on the TV screen.  


And just like that, the moment was gone. Jughead’s face softened, a simple grin spreading to his ears. “No one makes popcorn like Betty Cooper,” he winked at her. “Archie’s dumb if he doesn’t want to sit next to you.” He reached into the bowl next to them and scooped out a handful of fluffy buttered goodness.  


Betty smiled, leaning in to rest her head on Jughead’s knee. “Thanks Jug. A gal can only be so lucky to have you as a friend.” She glanced up at him, offering a smile. She thought she could see something in his eyes, as if he had a conflict warring in his mind, but in a flash, the warmth returned and he smiled back.  


For the rest of the movie, Betty kept her eyes on the screen, paying no mind to the redhead and the girl flirting shamelessly on the couch.


	10. IN THE LEAGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newest chapter, coming at you hot and ready! I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry for waiting this long to update. I've been caught up with other things in my life, and it's been hard for me to update my chapters. I'm trying to get back in the swing of things, though, and I hope the next update won't require such a long hiatus.
> 
> This chapter is during freshman year from Jughead's memories. We are getting closer to the scenes from the TV series, but I'll go ahead and address that I won't actually be recreating any of those scenes from the show. My aim is to explain some of the burning questions I have that aren't explained by the show. I hope you will understand what I mean in future updates, but for now, please enjoy this next chapter!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination. 

**CHAPTER TEN**   
**IN THE LEAGUE**

\-------

Jughead may not be an athlete, but he had to admit there were perks to being around sports events. He dropped a few dollars on the counter before grabbing hold of a tray of hot dogs, nestled in soft white buns, smothered in ketchup and wrapped up in thin wax paper. He had a big bag of Skittles tucked neatly in his jeans pocket, and he balanced a cup filled with ice and sugary brown cola in between his chest and the crook of his elbow.  


He traveled the worn grassy path separating the concession stand from the high risers, fifteen rows of thick metal seating long enough to fit the entire town of Riverdale. It was a warm Thursday night, and the Riverdale freshman baseball team was set to win big against the competing Piermont Pirates.  


Jughead reached the risers, taking a moment to assess the status of the game. He could see Archie warming up in a circle closest to the bullpen, swinging a thick wooden bat around. Since the beginning of the semester, Jughead had been coming to support the ventures of his best friend. Forever the silent type, he was never one to hoot and holler with every home run, but his presence seemed to be enough to appease Archie, and their post-game pit stop at Pop’s afterward was something he was not one to miss.  


However, beside the food and his friend, there was another benefit to coming to these games.  


And there she was, sitting alone, her eyes focused solely on the redhead up to bat, her hands clenched tightly together and resting in her lap as her knees quaked with anxiety. Her tight ponytail, her signature look since preschool, rested atop her head, a thick rope of gold shining under the lights of the stadium. Her eyes were wide, two green gems encased by skin that had been blessed by the sun, bronzed and beautiful. Her lips were clenched tightly by the intensity of the moment, but they were still pink, still very perky. Overall, Betty Cooper was the effigy of the term “All-American girl,” which was fitting as they were enjoying America’s favorite pastime.  


And she had eyes only for Riverdale’s very own All-American boy.  


Archie stepped up to the plate, giving his bat a single swing around, warming up before getting into position. The ball came right for him, dipping just below the strike zone as it neared home plate, but Archie could see it coming and still managed to take a crack at it. The ball went soaring beyond the pitcher, beyond the second baseman, and out into the field of green. His mouth was wide with amazement, surprised his bet had paid off, and he took off running at the encouragement of his base coaches. He sped to first, whizzing past the baseman, headed to second, and slid just before the ball smacked into the glove of the opposing player guarding the spot.  


The crowd, including Betty, was on their feet, hollering out exciting chants and phrases, cheering Archie and the rest of the Riverdale baseball team on, watching with hopeful eyes as the current player on third base made his way to the home plate, adding another score to their board.  


As Betty was lowering herself back down to her seat, Jughead trekked his way up the risers, claiming the vacant spot next to her. She greeted him with a warm smile, seemingly energized by Archie’s successful contribution to the game and genuinely happy to have familiar company. The Coopers often showed up to every town event, especially due to their obligation to the local paper, however tonight Betty was sitting solo.  


“What’s up, Betts? Did you see that swing?” he asked, nodding his head toward the field as he plopped down next to her, careful not to spill his soda.  


“Hey Jug. Yeah, that hit was amazing!” she exclaimed.  


While she was busy taking in the next part of the game, he was busy taking in the sight of her. She had shot up a bit in height, still a good forehead and nose shorter than him. Her easy pink t-shirt clung to her skin, the faint outline of a bra coming through, just enough to get Jughead’s mind jogging beyond the vacuum of innocence. She had filled out slightly since the summer, curves appearing in places they had not been before, and Jughead could tell she was uncomfortable by the way she tucked her arms inward around her stomach. Honestly, he didn’t quite care how many pounds she packed on. He didn’t think he’d ever find another girl as beautiful as her within the confines of their small town.  


Betty was the epitome of Riverdale for Jughead. Her every day chaste appearance, while considered prude to many of the hormonal boys in their class, was the pinnacle of purity, the very essence of their ever-changing town to him. Even as her appearance progressed and developed, the heart of Betty remained steadfast, her virtues constant and present in every decision she made, every encouraging and passionate word she spoke to those she encountered.  


Every day, Jughead watched as the students of Riverdale High swam their way through the sea of hormones that came with teen age. Clothing styles changed, becoming a more revealing representation of the individual that wore them. Friendships became stale while others flourished, new friendships literally waiting around the corner of the school halls. Attitudes adjusted to fit the latest clique that formed as students wandered through different interests offered with school activities. Girls would make sport of adding make-up to their faces and subtracting layers to their wardrobe, hoping to snag the boy that gave them the most attention. Boys would float on the wings of testosterone, flying toward the first girl that would be willing to go to first base with them. And through the muck of male excitement and female fluttering, there was Betty.  


She was reliable, yet every moment spent with her showed Jughead just how unpredictable she could be. Her passion, her strength, her determination were always there, yet their delivery was something Jughead could not figure out ahead of time. She always had some quip, some idea that would keep him on his toes. The slight contrast of those qualities, though too subtle for most to notice, attracted him in a way he could never explain. As he watched the way her eyes locked onto Archie, Jughead realized he may never have the chance to explain.  


Jughead reached down and tucked into one of the hot dogs, slamming half of the dog and bun into his mouth, hunger a familiar friend to the lanky black-haired teen. As he chewed, he heard the giggle next to him, and the companion rumble of a famished stomach.  


“Jug, do you – do you think you could spare one of those dogs?” she questioned. As he turned to face her, she continued, “After all, maybe taking one off of your hands will minimize the chances of you choking. You should really slow down, you know?”  


Jughead shook his head, a “tsk” heavy on his tongue. “Betts, you just don’t understand. I’m like a black hole. You can keep putting food in and it’ll just disappear.” He held up the tray toward her as an offering. “Have a dog, Betts.”  


She thanked him and took a hot dog, bringing it to her lips, opening wide enough to fit in the first bite. Jughead could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, his mind going suddenly blank. Quickly, he filled the gap in his face and in his brain with another mouthful of hot dog.  


Feeling the urge to show off, he piped up. “I may not be able to swing a bat, but there are other sports I could probably beat this whole team at.”  


Curious, Betty tilted her head. “Like what?”  


He pointed to the hot dog she was in the process of taking a bite out of. “Take hot dogs, for instance. I bet I could put away thirty of those within a matter of minutes, probably even less than a minute and a half.”  


Betty chuckled. “Competitive eating, eh? Are you sure that’s an _actual_ formal athletic activity, Jug?”  


He shrugged at her. “I don’t know about athletic, but yes, I’m pretty sure it is considered an actual competitive sport. There are trophies and medals awarded, you know?” he replied derisively.  


Betty laughed, giving him a win on this debate. Jughead smiled to himself, basking in the sound of her easy laughter. Everything about Betty brought a brightness to his life. Her simple company, there in the stands, filled him with a sense of ease and security he didn’t feel with anyone else other than Archie. He hadn’t felt safe in his own house for so long, the temperature in the trailer between his parents rising to near volcanic levels. He could only imagine how long they would last until it all boiled over.  


When he was around Betty, he didn’t have to think about the maelstrom brewing in his childhood home. He only had to think about the moments with her, the best ways he could make her laugh, the quickest way he could get her to smile.  


He could imagine the way her face would light up, cheeks painted pink, her eyes shimmering in lustrous shades of green. When she would laugh, her entire body would jitter, her chest heaving lightly with joy.  


Jughead’s face began to erupt in tones of rose. He stole a glance at Betty beside him, a portrait of teenage girl perfection. She had legs that drove for miles up and down her body, covered that evening in a pair of summer short shorts, the edges frayed just enough to show their age. Her hips had widened out since junior high, and he dreamt of having the privilege to reach an arm around her and rest one hand on the inviting handles.  


And nestled right atop the new addition of her midsection sat her bosom, wide awake after the emergence of puberty. Jughead was ashamed to admit to himself that many nights, he would lay awake in his room and drown out the sounds of rage in the trailer with the marvelous vision of Betty in her bra, which he would imagine was pink and pure like her. He’d close his eyes and picture her by Sweetwater River, inside his treehouse, in the back of his dad’s old truck – anywhere but where he lay in that moment.  


Betty was a different form of home for him as he imagined her arms and soft skin enveloping him in the way her spirit did when he was alone in the dark, listening to the shouts from outside his bedroom door.  


He would lay her down softly and lean in to brush his lips against the crease of her collarbone. He’d feel her shiver as he edged his way to the swell of her breasts, climbing the small hills to the crest where his tongue would peek out and provoke. He would hear nothing but the soft sounds of his name echoing off her lips in a cry so sweet, it would pour like melted sugar into his ears. His fingers would touch and tease and tremble across her skin in an excited rush, tracing around the outline of her perfect perky tits, dipping beneath the silk of her bra to entice, eliciting moans of increased amplitude.  


_Jug. Jug. Oh, Jughead!_  


He could feel his body responding right there in the bleachers, captured in the spotlight of the stadium lighting. He remembered the bag of skittles conveniently located in his jeans pocket, and he made a grandiose gesture of pulling them out in front of Betty, hoping to will away the crescendo occurring in his pants at the same time, trying to play off the entire thing as the bag of candy being responsible for the noticeable bulge in his pants.  


For being a hyper aware teenager, Jughead knew there were still things he could be absolutely ashamed of.  


Betty glanced over at him and watched as he ripped off a corner of the bag, pouring a handful of colorful candy pieces into his other hand, popping them into his mouth immediately. As he swirled around the mixed flavors of lime, strawberry, and grape around his tongue, he held out the bag to Betty. In his own mind, this was the peace offering for a minute’s worth of male fantasy.  


As she reached out for the offering, her fingers lightly brushed against Jughead’s, and he knew all attempts at minimizing the pressure below his waist would be fruitless. The surge that sparked between their fingertips raced up his arm, sending signals so intense to his brain, he figured it would fry. That zing felt so powerful, he could hardly notice the cheering of the game going on around him. He had gone temporarily deaf with adrenaline.  


For the rest of the game, the two pals in the stands watched as Archie brought in the last home run of the ninth inning, and they met him on the other side of the stadium fence, congratulations and praise bouncing on the tips of their tongues.  


As they stood around, discussing their plan to celebrate at Pop’s, Jughead watched the innocuous interaction between Betty and Archie. He looked down at his fingers, the trace of her still sizzling at the ends, and he realized after tonight maybe there was a new meaning of the word “game” for him.  


Maybe he could be competitive after all.


	11. JUGHEAD HAS A GIRLFRIEND

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to thank you all for the outpouring of positive feedback, comments, and kudos I've received since starting this little story. It makes this dusty writer feel like it was worth brushing off the cobwebs and reentering the world of creative writing. The passion I feel for Betty and Jughead was enough to spark the flame of writing and your positive encouragement is fanning those flames!
> 
> Also, to clear up any confusion that might exist: the Jughead chapters may seem a bit more monumental in significance than the moments from Betty's chapters. This is somewhat purposeful, as I would imagine Jughead's manuscript about their love story would include more "big moment" content as opposed to Betty's diaries, which may have more on the surface little moments I could envision her jotting down on her bed at the end of the day. Keep in mind, I didn't type them out as a diary entry, but more like her reflecting on the moment she is reading out in the diary entries, if that makes sense!
> 
> This chapter in particular is from Betty's memories, set in the second semester of freshman year. We meet Kevin (finally), and I hope I did his character justice. Enjoy this recent update!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**   
**JUGHEAD HAS A GIRLFRIEND**

\-------

For Betty, meeting Kevin Keller was like stepping into a crowded party and making eye contact with the first familiar face you laid eyes on. He had that instantaneous charm that flowed off of him in waves, and he easily pulled Betty into his web of friendship within the first five minutes of being introduced.  


It was the second semester of freshman year, and Betty had been enrolled in Biology with a companion lab course. She took a seat at one of the high lab tables, setting her book, notepad, and pen gently on the top surface, and folded her hands together. The first day of science class jitters always made her self-conscious about who she’d be paired with, worried that she’d be partnered up with a slacker like Reggie or a domineering mean girl like Cheryl Blossom.  


Knowing Archie would also be taking Biology this semester raised Betty’s school girl hopes, however they were quickly dashed when she found out that he’d be in lab during second period, and here she sat in fourth period, ready to learn about the genesis of life and dissection.  


While she clung to her seat, glued down by nerves and excitement at learning something new, a tall blonde boy stepped up beside her, draped in a think purple sweater, a messenger bag slung across his chest.  


“Hey there,” he extended a hand to her. “My name’s Kevin. Is it cool if I sit next to you?”  


Betty nodded, curious at the new face standing before her. Never wanting to be implicated as someone without manners, she gestured to the seat beside her.  


“Sure, have a seat.” She flashed him a signature Betty Cooper smile. “Are you new to Riverdale, Kevin?”  


The boy took the seat, setting his book bag on the table, reaching in to dig for a notebook and a handful of colored pens. “Yeah, actually. My dad’s the new sheriff in town. We just moved here from Nyack, though to be honest it’s not much bigger than Riverdale. Dad really likes small towns, and I’m pretty much stuck going where he goes.”  


He took an audible inhale and let it out, very obviously. “It just stinks. I don’t mind the closeness of a small town. Best place for gossip,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “But not the best place for a single teen gay boy hoping to meet a nice kid from the right side of the tracks.”  


Betty could see he was watching her closely, gauging her reaction. “That doesn’t bother you, right? You’re not the kind of girl who gets all awkward and mopey around boys that like boys, are you?”  


Betty shook her head drastically, chuckling at the same time. “Not at all, and you’ll find Riverdale to be a pretty progressive town – at least when it comes to politics and social concerns.”  


Kevin laughed. “Wonderful, though clearly not progressive when it comes to fashion.” He took in her appearance, eyeing her up and down openly. “To be honest, at first I was worried you’d be one of those ‘hall monitor’ type girls – you know, the ones that make best friends with every teacher and call daddy when they find a hair in their cafeteria food, but I think you’ll pass.” He winked. “Plus, I just _love_ your style. It’s very Betty Draper meets Doris Day. I love a good classic look.” He swooned a bit as he sized her up, and Betty drank it all in, not realizing the thirst she had felt for a new friend.  


Betty was left mystified by his continuous commentary of the fashion choices of each student that entered the lab.  


At one point, she looked up to see Jughead step into the class, and she was surprised to see that he had the same period as her. When she had compared schedules with Archie that morning on their walk to school, he had neglected to mention he would be separated from his long-time best friend during one of their classes.  


Kevin had clearly spotted him too, rolling a “tsk” sound off the edge of his tongue. “Well, would you look at that Prince of Darkness? Seriously, how can anyone wear that many layers of clothing inside a crowded school building? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many different shades of black in my life, especially not on one person.”  


Betty blushed, though ever the steadfast friend, she was quick to stand up for Jughead. “Oh, come on, his outfit is not _that_ bad. It does get cold in these labs, plus that’s just Jughead’s normal, everyday attire.” She shrugged it off, watching as Jughead made his way to a lab table directly behind her. She waved as he walked by, and he offered her a pleasant smile right back.  


“How very ‘aww shucks’ of you. That’s adorable, Betty! So, what, are you and this brooding boy toy a ‘thing?’” Kevin questioned, moving his eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner.  


Betty snapped her head to look at him, not realizing her cheeks were beginning to color. Kevin was not the type to be fooled, though.  


“Oh my gosh, Betty! Your face is turning the shade of your lipstick.”  


She dismissed him quickly, realizing Jughead was probably listening to their conversation. “No, he’s just a friend. He’s been my friend since we were kids, him and our best pal Archie,” she casually explained. “Archie’s also my next door neighbor. You may have met him today. Tall, red hair, sporting a lettermans jacket. He’s got a patch on it for baseball and football.”  


Kevin’s eyes shot up. “Oh yes, how could I forget that beefcake? I saw him in Health class. I tried my hardest to snag a spot next to him, but the desk was already occupied by some chatty-looking brunette. I didn’t have the heart to insult her poor taste in footwear, but I did manage to check out this Archie guy from afar.”  


He elbowed her lightly in the side. “So, what’s the deal? You have a thing with Archie?”  


This time, Betty knew she was turning red, the thought of her secret crush betraying her outward appearance. “We’re not together, but we’ve been best friends since I could remember.” She eyed him carefully, wondering if she should take a chance on a new person she had just met. Feeling as if they had become fast, and enjoyable, friends, Betty decided to go for it.  


“I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t… something… there,” she answered. Quickly, she followed it up with, “For me! I mean – I don’t know if he feels the same way. I guess I just always thought we’d be that couple that ended up together. You know the story: grow up next door, play together, go to school together, go to the dances together.” She shrugged her shoulders, not sure how much more to let on.  


“How adorable! Well, let’s just say it now – Betty and Archie are endgame. We are going to make it happen, girl.”  


Betty blushed, thankful to have found this new friendship.  


“Okay, but seriously, what the Hell kind of name is Jughead anyway? And what’s up with that hat?”  


Betty turned her head around slowly, trying to be subtle, wondering if Jughead was truly listening in to their gossip. She didn’t want him to be offended by Kevin’s poor choice of target. She could see he was staring directly at her, but his face was unreadable.  


Suddenly, Betty felt a bit ashamed. Jughead had been her friend just as long as Archie had. She turned back toward the front of the classroom and whispered to Kevin, “It’s a nickname. It’s not really that bad. I kind of like it,” and she smiled, hoping Jughead could hear her compliment to take the sting off of Kevin’s mud-slinging.  


Kevin looked at her, and she could tell he was unsure how to respond. In the end, he let the topic fall away, and provided other types of humorous feedback throughout the remainder of their class.  


As soon as the bell rang to dismiss them to lunch, Betty hurriedly promised Kevin to meet him in the cafeteria as she raced out of the room to catch Jughead. She caught up with him a few steps of out the lab as he was digging into his book bag for a pair of headphones.  


“Hey Jug.” She reached for his shoulder to stop him, her light pressure causing him to halt suddenly. He turned around to face her and she thought he looked upset, though Jughead had become a master of disguising emotional facial expressions.  


“Look – don’t pay attention to what Kevin was saying. He’s new here and he just doesn’t know you.” She smiled and tapped him playfully on the shoulder with a tiny fist. “He doesn’t know you like I do.”  


His lips curved up slightly at her tone. “Sardonic, sarcastic, and devilishly satirical?” He cocked one eyebrow at her mockingly. “Plus, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  


“Come on, Jug. I know you heard us,” she sighed. “Let me make it up to you this afternoon. We’ll go to Pop’s. We can have milkshakes and celebrate the first day back for the semester. My treat.” She hoped the smile she was giving him was persuasive enough.  


Jughead took a moment, then finally gave in. “Fine. Though Archie has practice. Don’t you want to wait until we can all go together?”  


Betty brushed his suggestion off, not realizing what that small reaction meant to Jughead. “No, that’s okay. We can always go with him another time. I want to treat you – because I like the name Jughead and I like your superior sense of wit.”  


Jughead grinned easily and Betty was thrilled that she was still on his good side.  


Just at that moment, Ethel Muggs, a girl much shorter than the two of them with curls that almost made up for the difference in height passed by. She brushed her hand lightly on Jughead’s arm and sent him a flirty smile.  


“Hey there, Jughead.”  


Her body continued to walk forward, but her eyes stayed on him for another good ten feet before she disappeared around a corner of lockers.  


Betty shot Jughead a scandalized look, nudging him playfully in the side while watching him light up like a street lamp at night.  


“Ethel, eh?” Betty questioned, her tone mischievous.  


She could see Jughead was hustling quickly to brush off the subject, trying to get Betty off her trail of thoughts. His hands jumbled around in the air in front of him, as if waving off a particularly annoying puff of smoke, and replied back with an edge in his voice, “Don’t even go there.”  


Just then, the bell rang and Jughead was saved from further interrogation. Betty grinned, a knowing smile passing from her lips to Jughead’s eyes. _I’m just going to grill him at Pop’s!_  


“Fine, fine. Alright, Jughead, I have to go,” she began backing away from him, heading toward the cafeteria while Jughead headed toward his fifth period class. “See you at Pop’s, three-thirty!”  


Betty then took off down the hall to meet Kevin for lunch, a new piece of gossip hot and juicy on her tongue. However, she decided she’d keep this tidbit to herself for a while.  


\-------  


When Jughead walked into Pop’s, Betty was already sitting at in a booth, two milkshakes resting in front of her on the 50’s style linoleum table top. Her lips were seemingly glued to the straw of her signature vanilla shake, finding comfort in the sweetness while waiting for her friend to show up.  


She looked up and caught Jughead’s eyes, quickly removing her lips from the straw to send him a smile. He turned in her direction and shuffled to the booth, sliding his body onto the row of seats directly in front of her. She gestured to the strawberry shake in front of them, and Jughead quickly obliged, sucking down a fourth of the shake in seconds. He closed his eyes in delight, slowly opening them back up to stare at Betty.  


He smiled and raised his shake in a mock toast. “To Pop’s milkshakes, the reward we deserve for surviving high school.”  


Betty giggled, raising her glass to clink against his. “To Pop’s milkshakes, bringing friends together to keep sane during high school.”  


They both laughed and brought their respective shakes back down to the table, each taking a hearty sip through their own straws.  


“Do you have Mr. Kershaw for Geometry? Hell, he nearly put me to sleep. Why are these teachers so convinced that speaking in “loud monotone” will keep us kids interested in any of the material they are trying to teach?” Jughead sighed, shaking his head.  


Betty chuckled. “No, I have Ms. Richards. Though, seriously, I thought Mrs. George was going to give everyone in Health class an F because Ginger wouldn’t get off her cell phone.”  


The two continued to exchange first day semester stories while sipping from their milkshakes. Betty ordered from a passing waitress a large side order of fries for her and Jughead to share, and as they dug in, Betty decided to switch up conversational subjects.  


“So… Ethel,” she wiggled her eyebrows up and down at Jughead. “What’s going on there?”  


Jughead seemed prepared for this topic to arise, however that didn’t make him seem less annoyed. There was a hint of a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, but he didn’t indulge in the expression much more than that.  


“I have no clue. I ran into her here at Pop’s over the Christmas break and we sat and discussed the end of semester finals we had taken and what we were looking forward to for the spring.” He sighed exasperatedly. “We never even held hands or kissed or anything like that. I just walked her home, that’s all.”  


Betty fought to hold back a grin, but failed as she started smiling like a fool, teasing him playfully across the table. “Sounds like Jughead has a girlfriend!”  


Jughead turned as pink as the strawberry that sat at the bottom of his finished milkshake. He began to offer up several different reasons why Ethel was not his girlfriend, how he had zero interest in being anything other than a school acquaintance with the Muggs girl.  


Betty wasn’t quite sure why she felt relieved as he listed off why he was not with Ethel, though she quickly shook off the sensation. She sat back in the booth, reaching into the basket of French fries and seeking out one that was hot and crispy. Before she brought it to her lips, she asked, a hint of curiosity lingering on her words, “So what is your type, Jug?”  


He looked up at her, the expression on his face one of uncertainty. “What do you mean? Like – in a girl?”  


Betty nodded, not quite making eye contact with him anymore. She couldn’t understand why the question gave her this wiggling sensation in her stomach. She waited with nearly bated breath for him to answer.  


He looked uncomfortable, wiggling around in his seat in the booth before settling in a position where one leg was slung up along the seat, his body turned slightly toward the window, though still facing Betty. He fiddled with the straw in his drink.  


“I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it. There aren’t many girls in this town that catch my interest, I guess. I mean, you know how hard it is for me to have a decent conversation with _anyone_ in this town, Betts.” He shrugged, also suddenly unable to make eye contact with the Betty. “I mean, I’m not like Archie. He likes girls, is really into the subject of dating girls.”  


He sent her a look, one pleading for her to understand the meaning underlying his words, however she was too preoccupied with the basket of fries and the neon lights hanging in the window frame to notice.  


“You’re the only girl I can really talk to, Betty.”  


She grinned, turning to him, reaching out and resting a hand over his that lay still on the table. “Oh, come on, Jug. I read that short story you wrote in eighth grade. I know there’s a hopeless romantic buried underneath that beanie.”  


Jughead met her eyes and held her gaze, and she suddenly felt very warm. Her hand over his retreated back to tug at the lapel of her winter coat, pulling it away from her neck. She reached down for her milkshake and took another slow, long swallow.  


She could hear him clearing his throat. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t believe in love, Betts, or even lust or longing. I know those are all components of life. I just,” he shrugged, “don’t know if any of those motifs are meant for my narrative.”  


“There’s not a _single_ girl you’re interested in Jug?”  


He pursed his lips and they twitched to the side as he was lost in thought. “I don’t know… There might be this one girl,” and he looked up at her. She felt a small shiver run through her body.  


The shiver soon manifested into a physical vibration, and Betty jumped lightly. She dug her hand into her coat pocket and retrieved her phone, which was signaling an incoming phone call. She sent Jughead an apologetic look and answered.  


Jughead sat, digging through the fry basket, while Betty’s mom gave her instructions for dinner over the phone. When she hung up the call, she slid her way out of the booth.  


“I’ve got to go, Jug. My mom wants me home to finish my schoolwork before dinner time. I’m going to go pay the tab.”  


As she walked up to the counter, reaching into her purse for cash and requesting the waitress pack up a few extra slices of pie for the family’s dessert, she missed as Jughead watched her, missed the look on his face – the look of longing at the exact girl that fit his type.


	12. TOO MUCH/NEVER ENOUGH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty Jughead ahead :( This chapter was so hard for me to push through. I promise things will get better after this!!! This chapter is from Jughead's memories, set the end of the freshman year before the events of season one of "Riverdale." I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination. 

**CHAPTER TWELVE**   
**TOO MUCH/NEVER ENOUGH**

\-------

The day started out like any other normal Thursday at Riverdale High. Jughead kicked off the morning with a cup of strong black coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast at Pop’s. Afterward, he hiked to school, ready to sit through another round of increasingly unintriguing classes. The spring semester was coming to a close, and Jughead only had one more week of exam and last minute assignments before he would be free from the bindings of high school education.  


He had planned an exciting road trip with Archie for the summer break. They had planned to pack up FP’s old truck with bedrolls, two single person tents, and a mess of snack foods, along with other camping essentials. The map had been plotted with spots along the east coast where the best diners were planted, and potential college towns the two boys might find themselves after graduation. It had been a busy first year of high school, and both Jughead and Archie had been so consumed with navigating the waters of freshman status that they hardly had time for each other. Archie had become increasingly invested in new athletic activities, including baseball and rugby, along with the time-honored tradition of high school football. Jughead had renewed his love for writing, spending most of his evenings and the hours deep into the night pounding away at his keyboard, anxious for a story to spring up at him.  


Anxious for an excuse to get out of his house.  


Throughout this past school year, the temperature in the trailer had boiled over between his mom and dad, and sometime after Christmas break, his mother had snatched up Jellybean in the night and walked out. Before she left, she had snuck into Jughead’s room while FP was passed out after another of his alcoholic benders. She leaned over his half-sleeping body, kissed him on the forehead, and explained that she needed to visit his grandmother for a little while. Jellybean was too young to be separated from her, but Gladys explained Jughead was old enough to stay behind, that it was important for him to finish his schooling and lean on the friends he had in Riverdale. She promised she’d be back for him. She promised her time away would only be temporary, but it was nearly six months later and there was no sign of return for Gladys and Jellybean Jones.  


Eventually, Jughead took a page out of his mother’s book and left his father behind in the trailer. After a series of nights filled with FP’s loud rambling and insatiable need to drink, Jughead realized he also needed to get out of that environment. He packed up most of his small belongings, a handful of t-shirts and two pairs of jeans, and his portable laptop, and took off for the only place he knew he could be alone. That evening, the Twilight Drive-In had become more than a place for him to put in work hours and earn a paycheck. It became his shelter from the anger and the overwhelming sadness that filled his father’s trailer. Pride dictated that he keep his family secrets hidden from Archie, whose family life was still held together at the seams despite the departure of Archie’s mom to Chicago. Jughead knew deep down that Archie would understand the disappointment that came with separated parents, however the break was mutual between Fred and Mary Andrews, and Gladys had left on less than pleasant circumstances. Jughead wasn’t sure if he could face the look of pity that would inevitably show up on his best friend’s face.  


Second period had just ended, the bell signaling the end of another round of boring lectures, and Jughead was trudging along to his locker, ready to trade out one school book for another. As he was passing the open door to the practice gymnasium, he glanced inside to see Betty and Cheryl, lost in intense conversation. He slowed his pace, desperate to overhear what they were speaking. Normally, he would frown upon verbal voyeurism, however the look on Betty’s face was screaming distress and he wanted to know the cause behind her expression.  


“Sorry, Betty, but seriously, how could you have ever expected you’d be accepted with love handles like yours? We are trying to send a message of uniformity, Betty. That means each of our bodies all need to maintain the same svelte frame as the next, and there is no room for variation.” Cheryl stood with her hands on her hips, staring down at Betty with the same cold stare she reserved for most everybody in their class. Betty’s eyes were glued to the ground, her hands balled up together so tight, Jughead could see them trembling.  


He could see Betty was taking a few seconds to respond, but she was frozen to the spot. Cheryl, ever the impatient type, was quick to end the discussion. “Better luck next year, Betty.” She turned to walk before pivoting back in Betty’s direction.  


“And maybe if your sister has left my brother by then, you’ll have a chance at making the Vixens.”  


Jughead quickly stepped out Cheryl’s path, desperate to be far from her potential crossfire. The River Vixens were the cheerleaders for the Riverdale High male athletics teams, an elite group of girls who prided themselves on their tight curves, tight cheers, and even tighter pyramid formations. Jughead knew Betty wanted to snag a coveted spot on the squad ever since her older sister, Polly, had accepted a position two years before. Betty had been patient during junior high, however puberty had hit her harder than some, and he could sense her more bodacious figure had made her uncomfortable and concerned about her future with the Vixens.  


It seemed she was right to be concerned, though Jughead could care less if Betty was a cheerleader or not. He just preferred her to be happy.  


He peeked into the gym after Cheryl had stormed off. Betty was still frozen to her spot, eyes turned downward, hands still clenched by her sides. It looked as though tears were threatening to pool under her eyelids. He stepped forward, reaching her quickly before the tears could fall. He grabbed her hand and felt it stiffen before loosening softly within his palm. His other hand landed on her other arm, pressing gently into her skin, trying to offer a comforting touch to his friend. Betty sighed softly.  


“Did you see all of that?” She turned her eyes up for the first time in minutes, landing into his, an expression of embarrassment written all over her face.  


Jughead took in a slow inhale and let it back out, trying to use the time to figure out exactly what to say in this moment, what he could do to make Betty understand how little Cheryl’s words actually reflected in Betty’s beauty.  


“I did… and it doesn’t matter. Cheryl’s just trying to stir the pot, you know how she is.” Betty’s head lowered and Jughead felt like he was failing at this whole “supportive friend” thing. What was he, a teenage boy with a seemingly bottomless pit of a stomach, meant to say to a girl dealing with weight issues? Though it wasn’t a problem for Jughead, he wasn’t ignorant of the concerns other kids his age had, especially those who wanted to fit in in every crowd. Betty fit that bill, always the first person to sign up for a new club or introduce herself to a new student. He knew while superficial matters didn’t entirely concern Betty, she wasn’t immune to the need to fit in.  


And teenagers could be cruel and judgmental.  


“Besides, what’s so cool about being a cheerleader, right?” He chuckled lightly, hoping she’d follow suit. Betty turned her eyes back up toward his and offered a tiny smile in return. Jughead felt like maybe he was getting somewhere here, maybe he could say the right thing in a moment like this.  


Betty sniffled and swept a finger across one of her eyes, catching the drop of water that clung to her eyelashes.  


“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ve just seen Polly perform at all of the football games.” Her expression of embarrassment turned into one of contemplation. “My mom and my dad are so proud when she climbs to the top of that pyramid.” She sighed, “it’s just one more thing my sister is good at that I’m not.”  


Jughead was no stranger to feeling like the lesser sibling. Though he never blamed Jellybean, there was a part of him that never really understood why his mom took his sister, but not him. He would find himself doubting, over and over, her claims that he’d be better suited to stay behind in Riverdale, to finish the school year, than join the only two family members he felt he could rely on. That number was now back at zero.  


“But Betts, there are so many other things you excel in that Polly can’t touch. Remember the science fair in the fourth grade? Best volcano I’ve ever seen!” He let go of her hand and her arm and threw his own wildly in the air, a gesture of amazement. Betty laughed, finally, and Jughead knew she’d be okay. Betty was never one to hold a grudge for long or dwell on sadness in public.  


“What do you say, Betty? Let’s head to class. The break in between periods is nearly over.” Jughead took a few steps toward the gym door, slinging his messenger bag to the other side. He stood waiting for her.  


She shook her head lightly. “Go on ahead, Jug. I just need a moment.”  


Jughead left Betty behind in the gym, though he kept the sound of her laughter at his volcano joke with him through third period. He was entirely too distracted to focus on his school work, nagging thoughts about Betty’s disappointment warring with the memory of her smile at his comfort measures. When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of class, Jughead quickly collected his things and dashed out of the room.  


He was on the hunt for his favorite blonde, hoping her spirits would be higher than when Cheryl had left her stranded with insecurity.  


Jughead turned the corner around a row of lockers, a rare smile on his face, the thought of Betty adding a bit of pep to his step. Knowing he had played a part in lifting her mood, making her feel better, gave him an edge he hadn’t expected. Jughead was truly only competitive when forced to be, and understood the world could not function on a “tit-for-tat” scale, but in that moment he felt maybe, just maybe, he had conquered a beast for Betty that Archie hadn’t had the chance to fight.  


Just as he steered himself beyond the next row of lockers and turned his body to the left down the hall, he could hear the voices of Betty and Kevin, and the sadness in Betty’s voice caught him head-on, halting his steps abruptly.  


“Kevin, the look on her face – I was mortified. My mom told me I had put on some weight, but is it…. Is it really that bad?”  


Jughead could hear the break in her voice, could sense the lump in her throat that threatened to spill over into a full blown emotional meltdown. He could feel his own chest tighten, as if there were an invisible tether from her to him. His innermost instinct was to step out of the shadows of the lockers, reach out, comfort her, but her next words had him stumbling in his metaphorical tracks.  


“This was supposed to be my year… our year, Kevin. I’ve tried so hard to get him to see me, to notice me – to realize how great we could be together.” Jughead could hear her sigh audibly, as if the weight of her insecurities were forced out in that one single breath, spreading all around her like a mist she couldn’t shake.  


"Archie and Betty, the football star and the cheerleader. The story practically writes itself, Kevin. Next-door neighbors, best friends, the sure path to becoming King & Queen of Riverdale High. That was supposed to be our love story.” A small sob escaped her lips, then another sigh. “What am I going to do now, Kevin? How will I ever get him to see _me_ , the ‘me’ that I could be?”  


In that moment, Jughead’s heart broke. He clutched the straps on his backpack, bringing them closer to his chest, a subconscious gesture of security and protection as he felt his heart splinter into a handful of pieces. As much as he wanted to flee, his feet felt glued to the linoleum of the hallway, and he mustered the last bit of energy within him to lean back against the lockers and close his eyes. His skin felt cold, a rush of fear surging through his veins, freezing him in place. The ice within his blood was battling against the sea of hot salty tears that were seconds from exposure, and he was a mix of a new angst he had never experienced. This was nothing like the disappointment, the anger he felt within the suffocating walls of FP’s trailer.  


This was heartbreak – genuine, sincere, classically written heartbreak. This was sadness in a spot of his chest he didn’t know had space to fill with emotion. All this time, Jughead thought the heart was simply a muscle. He didn’t realize the fibers could be shredded so easily, ripped apart by the injustice of teenage hormones and the “fairy tale” tropes of high school.  


He always knew he would never live up to the title Archie wore sewn onto his letterman jacket, that of jock, of heartthrob, chiseled in build as was his future as leading man of Riverdale High. However, Jughead lived under the impression, though minor it was, that he had qualities the leading man in this story didn’t quite possess, the observer who saw the true depth of the ingénue, Betty Cooper, in all of her golden-haired glory. He knew he had worth, but that confidence was shattered, spilling out of him like the brief flicker of hope he had held, thinking Betty could ever like a boy like him. How could the leading woman ever fall for the supporting cast?  


How could the perfect girl next door ever fall for the weird boy from beyond the tracks?  


Jughead lifted his head lightly and slammed it back down into the locker, aware that Betty and Kevin had vacated their spot in the hall, recognizing that in the midst of his misery the next class period had begun without him.  


The worst part of this entire affair was that he couldn’t even be angry. How could he blame Betty for the way she felt? How could he blame Archie for the way he didn’t feel? Jughead had no one left to blame but himself.  


He opened himself up to hope after his mom had left.  


He thought he could rebuild his spirit after his father had left nothing for him but the wreckage of Jughead’s childhood.  


He thought love was something that could still actually exist for people beyond damaged.  


Jughead gathered himself, breath and all, and felt his body begin to move amongst the ice that encased him.  


_I need to get out of here._  


But deep down, Jughead knew he meant more than getting out of the dark and desolate arena of the school hallways. He needed to get away from all that threatened to harm him. He had already fled his family home. Now, he would have to flee from another place that had once felt like shelter to Jughead – from the one person who once filled the dark spaces in his mind with a bright light.  


In the end, he was left with nothing but shadows, the hollowed out tunnels of where once love lived.


	13. SOPHOMORE YEAR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, my sincerest apologies for the "Debbie Downer" chapter before. I hate to see our poor Jug in emotional pain, and usually stray away from the concept that he's this sap who gets walked all over. He's a stronger boy than that and smarter, more aware of self-preservation, so I hope I at least got that message across! Yes, he's essentially in love with a girl who doesn't realize what she has in front of her, but I like to think it's not quite that simple and cliche. Luckily, there will be some relief for Jug on the horizon and our two lovebirds will be united in a romantic way very soon.!
> 
> This chapter comes from Betty's memories (perfect for our lovely Lili's birthday), set at the beginning of sophomore year, which is when "Riverdale" occurs. I did my best to try and explain Jughead's absence from the initial trio and the new "core four" from Betty's perspective the best I could. I hope I did it justice! It was definitely one of those things that left me curious about what we missed that went unexplained in the show. I hope you enjoy! Also, as always, I appreciate all of the lovely feedback and comments I've received. You all are beautiful and lovely and wonderful!!!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**  
**SOPHOMORE YEAR**

\-------

The day was fresh and new and Betty felt like a brand new version of herself, the old self of the youngest Cooper girl wrapped in shiny new wrapping paper.  


After three harrowing months of getting down to the weight she was at before puberty struck, and a summer filled with pursuing dreams in the form of a promising internship, Betty felt prepared to take on the new school year with an emerging confidence that had been dormant for far too long. Stocked with a closet filled with new cardigans and a pair of brand new Mary Jane flats, Betty felt ready to take on the challenges of sophomore year.  


She even got to spend the night before school sharing her newfound glow with Archie, one-on-one, since Jughead had somehow been unavailable to join them for the kick-off at Pop’s. She could feel the warmth of her joy at sitting across from Archie, alone in the quiet space of the all-night diner, sipping from her frosty milkshake and laughing at his jokes, feeling a surge of excited accomplishment every time she made him laugh too.  


That sugary simplicity was too soon left burned, scorched by the black-haired beauty that walked into Pop’s that night, stomping all over her reverie in a pair of well-shined ebony high heels.  


Veronica Lodge had arrived in Riverdale, seemingly on a cloud of well-scented smoke, an air about her one of expensive mystique and feminine intrigue. She carried with her, like most new residents of Riverdale, the mystery of new beginnings and a past that would surely be uncovered by the curious inhabitants of the town. When she walked into Pop’s that evening before sophomore year, Betty knew down in her gut that everything would change.  


And it did – one slick betrayal at a time. She had quickly befriended Veronica, despite her reservations upon seeing Archie’s dreamlike response to the new girl at the diner. The two girls exchanged quick pleasantries and became fast friends, Veronica the type to push her companionship and Betty the type to feed into those kind of behaviors. The black-haired beauty even worked her magic, securing a position for both of them on the River Vixens, throwing her fierce fiery nature in the gauntlet of high school dominance against Cheryl Blossom.  


Betty, riding the high of finally achieving the simple dream of becoming a cheerleader, missed the underlying energy beneath the exchanges between Archie and Veronica. Her ignorance paid off viciously the night of the first dance of the school year, when Veronica and Archie had been forced to share an intimate space in Cheryl’s parlor room closet, a malignant reminder of Archie’s previous dismissal of her feelings from earlier in the evening.  


The “forever friends” had shared a dance under the glittery paper and speckled lights of the gymnasium, and Betty had grasped, breathless, at the opportunity to tell Archie her hopes and wishes that the two of them could finally be an indestructible pair. Years and years of build-up, feelings bubbling in the boiling pot of Betty’s entire being, had finally spilled out right there on that dance floor. Betty had felt like a balloon, held in suspension, waiting for his response.  


In pure Archie fashion, he stumbled through some excuse, unable to fully get out his reply before they were interrupted with the end of the song, the end of the dance, and the caravan of teens gathering to carouse at the Blossom’s mansion home, Thornhill. She refused to feel deflated, holding onto the faint glimmer of hope while carpooling with Veronica and Kevin, putting forth all of her last bits of emotional energy toward a wish that the fate of a high school party could finally bring Betty into the spotlight for Archie.  


She watched with not-so-subtle disappointment as Veronica and Archie marched toward Cheryl’s closet, paired during a round of “spin the bottle” for “seven minutes in Heaven.” Betty had to give them credit. They both looked miserable at the choice, though she suspected it was more for her benefit than theirs.  


_They pitied her._  


Betty had felt sick to her stomach in that moment, nausea spreading throughout her body like the twisting of fear, anger, sadness, and rejection that coiled in her DNA. She gave herself a solid two minutes before she rushed out of the room, desperately searching for an escape from the dark, and suddenly overwhelmingly lonely, halls of Thornhill. Veronica had been her ride for the night, and Kevin was nowhere to be found. Feeling despondent and hopeless, Betty had stepped outside and dialed the number for her mother’s cell, sending a plea filled with sadness to be picked up from the nightmare that was occurring in the expansive home behind her.  


That was the night that Jason’s body had been found. That night had changed the future in more ways than just the natural shift that comes with the death of someone significant.  


She had spent the next few days wrestling with her feelings for Archie, his rejection still steaming from the scorch mark it left on her heart. He had come to visit her shortly after she had returned home from Cheryl’s party. He had been out of breath, sweaty, as if he had run a considerable distance to see her. Knowing that, knowing how much he cared for her and how it still wasn’t enough, stung the most. He would always care for her, that wouldn’t change – which meant it could never change from friendship to more.  


If only she had the foresight, she would have seen the moments in the years prior where he had been carving a spot for her in the friendship section of his heart, never to be etched anywhere else in his life.  


Despite the sting, despite his rejection, Betty couldn’t deny that life was so strange without the familiarity of the red-haired framed face of Archie Andrews. She eventually adjusted to the realization that it would take time for her to feel comfortable with their position, now 100% confirmed after years of questioning. She could at least find solace in that knowledge. One mystery in her life that had consumed so much of her time, energy, and emotion had been solved.  


She still was on the fence when it came to Veronica. It wasn’t often that Betty felt comfortable confiding her feelings for Archie to anyone. Despite her friendly nature, trust did not come easy to the Cooper girl. Just minutes after meeting Veronica that first day of school, she had spilled her emotions about Archie to the raven-locked female. Her new friend had even been the one to finally push her to confess her feelings to Archie, and while there was a part of Betty that was grateful for the shove, she wasn’t quite ready to let go of that anger and irritation yet.  


It was finally a new day. Betty had asked Archie to walk with her to school, and they amended a bit of the bridge that had been burned the weekend of the dance. She gathered at her locker, a bit of that hope daring to slip back into the cracks of her broken heart to seal out the pain. When she had walked in through the doors of the high school, she had been greeted with an overhead page for her to visit the front office. Though curious about the nature of this beckoning, Betty had to take a moment to be grateful for the positive start of the day.  


She turned from her locker, books tight in hand, and caught sight of a familiar beanie-crowned boy in all gray walking through the front doors. A sudden smile filled her face and her hand instinctually went up in greeting, but she didn’t catch his attention as he sped down the hall in her direction, hunched over with headphones on, an unusually firm grimace cemented on his face.  


Betty had the suspicion that she had, in fact, caught his attention, but that he was avoiding her for whatever reason, as the look on his face deepened and she could feel him tense up as he passed her.  


_What’s wrong with Jughead?_  


Betty suddenly remembered all the radio silence she received from him during the summer. Though she spent the majority of her holiday out of town, learning from her literary mentor Toni Morrison, she had sent several texts to both Archie and Jughead with updates on her break. She remembered Archie had responded to several of her texts, though perhaps she was so focused on the fact that Archie had thrown attention her way that she neglected to realize she didn’t receive a single reply from her other good friend.  


Betty spent the next few minutes pondering over what she could have done, or what could have happened, to cause the deterioration in her friendship with Jughead. The last conversation they had was when he had overheard Cheryl reject her audition for the River Vixens. He had been friendly to her then. She couldn’t understand what could be causing a rift, if she wasn’t imagining one in her head.  


She could admit that Jughead was often the friend who showed up for her most in moments like those with Cheryl, when she was upset or insecure or vulnerable. Maybe she had burned him out, cried too much on his shoulder, leaving their friendship snuffed out like a candle with no flame? They had shared so many years together, so many memories. Could history truly be wiped out by an overburdening of a friendship?  


Betty tried to think back on the things they enjoyed together. Jughead had always explored the interest in journalism, much like she had, and both of them found solace in writing stories. Betty tended to lean toward nonfiction, appreciating how dirty she could get digging up answers to the mysteries swirling around town concerns. She caught the journalism bug from her parents, spending more time than most kids do at their parents’ place of employment, perusing the files spread out throughout the offices of The Register, Riverdale’s own local digest.  


Betty knew Jughead enjoyed the finer, more flowery details of script, though he enjoyed a mystery as much as she did. She remembered exchanging old copies of the “Nancy Drew” and “Bobbsey Twins” detective series with him during their treehouse days, whispering theories to each other while Archie entertained himself with solo sports activities in their bunker.  


She had heard whisperings around town about “the Jones boy writing a novel about the death of Riverdale teen Jason Blossom.” After Jason’s mysterious disappearance, and eventual tragic discovery, the entire town of Riverdale was swept up in a whirlwind of mixed emotions, swirling amongst muttered exchanges between neighbors. The buzz of his death had almost put a pause on the town’s ability to properly grieve the loss of one of their own, the questions surrounding his demise too overwhelming to give in to sadness and despair.  


Betty herself didn’t know how to properly react to the noise circling around Riverdale about Jason’s death. She felt great sadness for her sister. Polly was steadfastly in love with the Blossom twin, enough so that their bitter break-up had left her to be whisked away to an institution, the mystery of where nearly as palpable to Betty as the circumstances around Jason’s final moments. She felt guilt at her former ill thoughts concerning the other Blossom twin, Cheryl. Despite their differences, and the disdain the red-head would send her way with every town encounter they shared, Betty couldn’t help but feel bad for Cheryl. Losing Polly to distance was hard enough. She couldn’t imagine living the rest of her life without the sage support of her sister.  


While pushing grief to the side, Betty focused her spare moments alone contemplating the possible identity of Jason’s murderer. As much as she enjoyed giving chase to her theories solo, she had to admit that this would give her an opportunity to reconnect with Jughead. Plus, two well-functioning brains were better suited for solving mysteries than one solitary machine.  


Betty was tasked with the revival of the high school’s newspaper, aptly called “The Blue  & Gold” for Riverdale’s signature colors. Among the other school issues she intended to take a hard-hitting approach to, the mystery of Jason’s death was a story she hoped to crack and expose to the masses, believing she had a duty as a burgeoning journalist to bring the truth to the citizens of Riverdale. She knew Jughead would be a promising candidate as a fellow journalist for the club, and she intended to find a way to get him to hear her out and accept a position with the Blue & Gold.  


As she headed to the front office, she couldn’t help but reflect on how much she missed Jughead. It wasn’t just his supportive presence that she missed, but also the sardonic wit he offered that she had grown to find endearing. She missed the opportunity to tease him for his beanie, missed the way he always made her feel like she had an ally whenever Archie tried to get them tangled up in some new outlandish adventure when they were younger.  


Before she opened the door to the front office, before she was greeted with an embarrassing display of apology flowers from a forlorn Veronica, Betty committed to getting Jughead onboard with the Blue & Gold, no matter his objections.  


Their friendship meant that much to her.


	14. THE KISS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... I thought I had posted this chapter days ago, but apparently AO3 didn't understand when I hit "submit," that meant I wanted it submitted for people to read -.- (ugh). Anywho, here's the next chapter for "Snapshots." I apologize for the delay, and unfortunately there may be another delay for the next chapter. I'm wrapping up a rigorous second degree program, so that's been time-consuming. Also, in terms of the next chapter: good news = finally getting to fluff/some mild smut, however bad news = I haven't been in the proper head space to write about love. I want to make sure I do this story justice and provide you all something you will enjoy that I can be proud of, so it just might take a hot minute for me to get my shit in gear and bring you all of the Bughead-loving goodness you've been so patiently waiting for.
> 
> That said, here's the next chapter from Jughead's memories. This takes place right before he climbs the ladder to Betty's bedroom for their first kiss. I've always been curious what could have led this shy loner to finally make his move. I hope I did his thoughts and actions justice. Please enjoy!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**   
**THE KISS**

\-------

When Jughead woke that morning, bundled up in the old blankets of his cot, tucked away from the cold that seeped under the door of the old janitor’s closet at the high school, he was ignorant to the changes that were to come.  


The changes that would forever change the shape of his future.  


Already, enough changes had shown up on the doorstep of Jughead’s life. He found out FP had fallen even deeper into an alcoholic spiral and had become involved in a local gang of bikers on the Southside. The Twilight Drive-In, his home away from home, had been shut down, the product of shady business deals concocted by the most powerful political hands in town. Then there was the death of one of their own, Jason Blossom, the only teen dream that could rival Archie for the high school hierarchy.  


But sadly enough, it was the end of Jason’s life that sparked one anew under Betty and Jughead.  


The summer before sophomore year, Jughead had purposefully distanced himself from Betty, and after Archie flaked on their summer plans for a road trip, he purposefully distanced himself from his best friend too. Jughead was tired of being disappointed, tired of being let down by the people and the circumstances he found himself gravitating toward.  


He chose to spend the majority of his months between June and early September locked away in a booth at Pop’s or clocking in hours at the drive-in before it was shut down. He mostly kept to himself, though that wasn’t necessarily by choice. He really didn’t associate with most other teens his age, and there was no family for him to spend time with. He had asked Gladys if he could hike up to Toledo where his grandparents lived for the summer months, but she denied him, using the excuse of working too often at a diner with little time for anyone, including Jellybean, who would be at a summer camp until she started school. Jughead resigned himself to Riverdale, making the best of his time typing away on his laptop or losing himself in classic films. He tried desperately not to think about his anger with Archie, his longing for Betty.  


As much as he tried to avoid his father, FP and his fellow bikers had taken up a post at the drive-in, catcalling at female movie-goers or tossing old beer cans around the dying grass of the giant cinema lot. Jughead kept his interactions with his dad to a minimum, but every now and then their paths crossed, and eventually FP realized Jughead was sleeping at the drive-in. Jughead tried to admit the guilt that first spread over FP’s face didn’t bother him, tried to convince himself that FP deserved to feel that shame, but even Jughead couldn’t succumb to total ice immersion, and there was still a warm spot for FP in his heart.  


After the death of Jason Blossom and the beginning of the new school year, Jughead did what he could to start the semester with the strictest self-preservation, avoiding initiating all interactions with Archie and keeping eye contact with Betty to a minimum.  


He couldn’t completely stop looking at her. The pain he felt seeing her was a familiar kind of pain, one he felt comfort in, one he lavished in from time to time. Heartache, for Jughead, was like a wound he could curl up in when he was in his darkest spaces. For so long, Betty had been the brightness to compliment his shadows, but now she was the Queen, the one providing the pain and nurturing him in it, the one controlling the depth of that hurt. And though it was his own darkness, Jughead was still just the jester, the fool. He could still never measure up to king, even in his own agony.  


It took a special kind of control to pass by her in the halls and ignore her gestures of greeting. It both saddened him and pissed him off that she didn’t understand why he was intentionally avoiding her.  


_Of course she doesn’t know. How could she? You couldn’t even tell her how you felt. You were a coward. You are a coward._  


Jughead couldn’t blame her. He purposefully kept himself in the shadows, just on the edge of the center of the room that flooded with light when she was in it. Though they had been long time friends, there was always a part of Jughead that felt like the third wheel in their friendship, the spare that kept her steady while Archie held the reins. How could she have known the depth of his feelings for her when he mostly tried to avoid the topic, using sarcasm and humor to deflect anytime the subject of him and other girls or her and Archie came up? Though Jughead felt they had this odd, unexplored connection that was uncommon for most people, he had to admit Betty wasn’t a mind reader, and it wasn’t her job to navigate through his jumble of mixed signals.  


Eventually, he’d have to step into that bright light or consider the shadows his home forever.  


Soon after the school year began, after several agonizing tense, nonverbal encounters with Betty and a handful of confrontations with Archie, things began to normalize. Archie confessed his reasons for ditching Jughead over the summer, and the two boys patched things up like most boys do – quickly and over a mess of greasy food. That night, Jughead managed to put a band-aid over the wound Betty had left behind before the summer and joked with her in the booth at Pop’s, along with Archie and the new girl Veronica Lodge. The sound of Betty’s laughter became a salve on the wound, healing him slowly, inch by inch. Looking into her green eyes again over the close proximity of the diner table, being close enough to brush his legs against hers under the booth, brought a life back into him that he had been missing.  


He realized the shadows weren’t so comfortable after all.  


Not long after, Betty had invited him to join the Blue  & Gold, and though he was reluctant to give up his time working on his novel to use it for writing articles for a media medium he considered archaic, truthfully there wasn’t a damn thing he wouldn’t do for Betty. With their relationship back on the mend, he agreed and they quickly got down to business, sharing the last period of school and the afternoon hours exchanging theories about Jason’s death and the mysteries swirling around Riverdale.  


Journalism was something strictly for the two of them, no Archie included, and Jughead could sense Betty had made the offer to him as an extension of an olive branch – the attempt to bring back together two friends who had drifted apart through circumstances. Although Jughead knew he personally was responsible for driving the wedge between him and Betty, knew he made a conscious choice to separate himself from that source of pain, her efforts, genuine and touching, chipped the ice away and he melted back into old habits with her.  


During their time together in the classroom designated for the Blue & Gold, Jughead sometimes found it hard to concentrate on the story at hand, focusing instead on the wandering fantasies of leaning over and landing against Betty’s lips. He tried to adjust his thoughts about Betty, succumbing to the idea that they were better as just friends, but that didn’t stop him from giving in to the moments where the energy between the two of them seemed less like excitement over a lead and more like an underlying sensation that felt beyond platonic.  


There just never seemed to be the right opportunity to arise for him to let Betty know the way he felt. As much as he feared major rejection for a second time, he knew he couldn’t keep living this way, without truly knowing if what he was feeling was one-sided. Now that Archie was out the picture after he finally admitted to Betty his ability to see her only as a friend, perhaps Betty could finally have the chance to open her eyes to the possibility of Jughead right in front of her.  


He had the sickening notion that he would have to create the opportunity to come clean. No matter how much he wanted to back himself into a corner and avoid moving forward with his confession, he was done being a coward.  


FP was a coward. With his addiction, with Gladys, with his responsibilities as a provider and a father, FP was a coward through and through. As much as Jughead loved his father deep down, he knew there were traits his father possessed that Jughead never wanted to become, and cowardice was one of them.  


He had already allowed himself to fall prey to the fear that he was unworthy of Betty, but even without admitting how he felt, she still unknowingly rejected him, enough to cause pain rippling through his heart.  


All of the doubts, all of the fears holding him back all of these years, Jughead knew they were a waste. Jughead knew Betty. He knew he could rely on her to be gentle with him, even if she had to let him down. If only he could trust his instincts, he would know Betty would never turn him away. He knew Betty had grown closer to him in these last few weeks than she had ever been with him over the years. Though Archie was still in their lives, still a good friend, he was somewhat out of the frame, giving the two of them a chance to become a solid pair reliable on each other.  


Jughead found himself trekking down the street, a few houses down from Betty’s house. After their adventures yesterday trying to pry information from Betty’s sister Polly at an institution for troubled youths, The Sisters of Quiet Mercy, he knew his blonde-haired friend would be playing prisoner to her parents’ strict grounding rules. He wouldn’t be able to come up to the front door and expect one of the Cooper adults to allow him to see their daughter. He would have to concoct some method to get to her.  


He remembered a spare ladder that Archie’s dad kept tucked along the side of the garage, too large to be kept inside. Jughead could climb the steps to Betty’s windows, though he realized he wouldn’t be too inconspicuous as all of this was occurring during the light of day. He could wait until after-dinner hours, when the sun had slipped down for a slumber, but if he didn’t capitalize on this surge of bravery in that moment, he’d lose his momentum. Who knows how long it would take for him to feel this confident again, enough to tell Betty he liked her?  


He remembered how much the two of them flirted during their bus ride to visit Polly, how close they sat, pressed into each other despite the several vacant bench seats around them. He remembered when they had been at the institution, how great the urge was to reach her when there was a tussle with the guards and Polly in the hallway, right after Alice Cooper had dismissed her eldest daughter to the control of the institution staff.  


He remembered the hug she gave him after her mother had dropped him off at FP’s trailer, ignorant of the fact that he was no longer living there. Betty had leaned into him, clutching him tightly, in an embrace that felt so familiar and so brand new at the same time. She lingered longer than she had during any of her previous hugs from the years before, and when she finally pulled away, her hand brushed against his. He wasn’t entirely convinced that wasn’t purposeful. The look in her eyes screamed for comfort, but there was something deeper. As beautiful and perfect as Betty was to Jughead, there was dysfunction in her life, and while he never wanted to see her unhappy, he realized they could empathize with each other in their pain, and they both possessed the tools to comfort the other.  


An additional surge of confidence raced up Jughead’s spine as he hoisted the ladder next to Betty’s bedroom window, pushing it up against the sill, putting one foot up on the first rung.  


_It’s now or never, Jughead._


	15. SO CLOSE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I am FINALLY back with the next chapter of this series. It took me a while to get into the groove, but I think I have a piece here that both you and I can be proud of. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter. Again, if there are delays in getting Chp. 16 up to you all within the next week or so, I apologize. I'm hoping the inspiration will stick around, but you never know... Also, less than a week before "Riverdale" returns!!! I'm excited. Are you excited? I'm excited! djsfhjdshfdjfjndjdfhfgdfdmjdre 
> 
> This chapter comes from Betty's memories, set around the confrontation at FP's trailer and the fan-favorite infamous Bughead kiss of episode 08. A bulk of the chapter takes place directly after the kiss, and I warn those not interested in anything resembling smut... it gets a little heated between our OTP. We haven't earned full-on sex yet, but being a hormonal teenager is all about the build-up, am I right? ;) 
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**  
**SO CLOSE**

\-------

Betty thought she knew everything there was to know about Jughead Jones, and now by proxy everything there was to know about herself. Somewhere between the heartbreak of Archie’s rejection and the tragedy of Jason Blossom’s death, the investigative duo that commandeered the Blue & Gold found a beacon of light and romance drowning amongst the darkness. Betty couldn’t remember how it began, how they found themselves lost within a world of open gestures of warm affection and soft secret kisses, but now that she was absorbed completely in the magic she couldn’t imagine accepting anything less.  


Betty knew the basics about her boyfriend, a newly coined label given to him earlier in the week by her newest female confidante, Veronica. Betty and Jughead had grown up together, and she had spent enough time chasing him through the lawns of their childhood and discussing plans for each immediate future they pondered, to know the foundation of Jughead Jones.  


Betty knew he took his coffee black and his burgers medium well. Betty knew he slept with a stuffed dog that resembled the family pet, Hot Dog. She knew he had a severe lust for writing and an even more insatiable appetite for the truth, and his moral compass almost always pointed north.  


The one thing she never expected to learn was how much of an impact he would have on her.  


The day he climbed the ladder up to her bedroom had been the beginning, though there were times Betty considered the flame had already begun to smolder days before. The moments she spent with him investigating the murder of Jason, locked away in the confined computer space of the Blue & Gold office, Betty began to pick up on the subtle nuances that made him so classically Jughead that she realized she may have misjudged before.  


His smell – a musk of stale air that clung to the lining of his thick padded jacket, old coffee from accidental spills most likely at Pop’s, and a cologne that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. The combination, once tolerated and nearly absent to her nose, now drove her mildly crazy when she stood close to him.  


His hair – that tiny tendril that dared to drop low below his hairline every time his attention turned tense tempted her to reach out and tuck it behind his ear. That midnight black strand had captivated her almost as much as the blue eyes it surrounded.  


Betty could remember how the depth of those deep blues had mystified her even as a child, that first day of their introduction when he held the Kleenex to her bleeding knee. Now, they held a deeper mystery, an enigma of emotion that stared back at her with every question, every comment during their investigation. The true mystery Betty had asked herself was whether or not the simple characteristics that shaped her captured Jughead in the same way.  


Before she could point a finger to the crush she was developing on Jughead, one she didn’t realize she was nurturing until he had kissed her in the soft outside light of her bedroom window, Betty had been busy trying to analyze these new discoveries of her other childhood best friend while calculating all of the mounting theories about Jason’s death. Coming to any sort of conclusion would have taken her months, and she was grateful that Jughead decided to make the first move, sparing them wasted time from questioning the feelings that would have continued to grow, still unspoken of.  


Since then, they had fallen from the cliff of deep friendship and managed a soft landing in the realm somewhere between gentle teenage passion and deep emotional understanding. In the moments she had faced the difficult prospect of her family’s involvement in stashing away her devastated pregnant sister, and possible involvement of her father in covering up the details of Jason Blossom’s murder, Jughead became a steadfast figure for her to lean on. He comforted her, held her, consoled her when her emotions threatened to boil over and spill from her quivering green eyes.  


Betty knew if she could, at all, give Jughead an ounce back of the comfort and compassion he had treated her with, she would do so with a fervency she usually reserved for her school studies and extracurriculars.  


So when the topic of the Serpent involvement in Jason’s plot to distance himself and Polly away from the suffocating grip of their families in Riverdale, and the shocking realization that FP ran with said gang from the Southside, Betty knew Jughead would need her by his side. They agreed to question FP about the drugs Jason planned to sell for the Serpents, segueing into a conversation about the Blossom boy’s disappearance and eventual discovery -- a conversation that soon turned into an interrogation between the troubled father figure and his terrified and frustrated son.  


As Betty stood against Jughead while he confronted FP, she could feel his skin shiver with adrenaline and fear. In that moment, she had to fight against her inner instinct to wrap her arms around him to console him and slow his trembling. She knew this moment could not have been easy for him, his head most likely a fog of harsh societal whisperings and accusations that even he could not ignore.  


His history with FP was one of gray, Jughead’s disappointment with his father’s inability to become sober warring with his innate need to love his dad unconditionally. Betty could empathize, her mother driving her to the brink of frustrated insanity more than once, Alice Cooper’s severe need for perfection drowning Betty’s need to accept herself as she was. As much as she wanted to hate her mother for the pressure she felt she was under 24/7, she knew deep down she loved Alice and always would.  


Jughead might have been born FP III, but he was anything like his father. As the couple departed the trailer, Jughead stalking ahead of her by two paces, Betty reflected on the good man before her. In the short time they had spent tangled in the soft waves of their romance, he had grown before her very eyes, leaving behind the boy that focused his energy on debating the basic cinematic techniques of his favorite classic films and transforming into the man that comforted her throughout each trial she faced, the man who fought against his own fears of his father’s guilt in order to do the right thing, to be just.  


He had faced more demons than anyone she had known, navigated through more turbulent waters than any teenager should have to wade through, and yet he still remained inherently good. He wanted to uncover the person behind the horrific murder, even if it came at the expense of his own father, the remaining shatters and shreds of what was left of his family. He drove his friends to the same standard, and Betty felt compelled to remain truthful with every conversation they shared. Jughead brought out in her the ability to let down her guard and be honest, even when her feelings became murky.  


She trusted him. She had trusted him as a child, she had trusted him as a friend, and now she had trusted him as a boyfriend. He seemed to fit neatly into each of those roles for her, and she could only hope she filled the position just as ideally. She needed to show him just how much she trusted him, trusted the man he was.  


She stopped him short, catching up to him and halting his march with a hand on his wrist. He turned to her, and she could see the storm building in his eyes. She knew his thoughts were still clouded, and she hoped to provide a single ray of light to shine through the smog.  


“Do you believe him?” she asked, facing him head on. Jughead confirmed with an “I do,” and Betty nodded, knowing deep down that would be his answer.  


“Do you?” he responded, searching her face for any sign of doubt. In that moment, Betty knew she had to step up, to trust her boyfriend’s instincts, not just because they were dating but because she trusted the man and trusted his ability to tell right from wrong, to smell suspicion without his own personal bias getting in the way. She knew if he said FP was innocent, that would be her answer too.  


She reached up and grabbed his face, cupping his soft skin in between her delicate hands. “I believe _you,_ Jughead,” emphasizing that it was him she trusted, not the facts or the accusations but his own gut instinct, his own intuition.  


He looked deep into her eyes for a second, measuring her response, and decided to take the plunge, reaching up for comfort in her own face as he journeyed toward her to plant a firm, comforting kiss on her lips, letting her know how much he appreciated her trust, how much it meant to him that she put her faith in his judgment.  


After their lips separated and rejoined, lost within the rhythm of the moment, Betty could feel the air changing between them. After gazing into his eyes, slightly more dilated than they had been before their kiss, she leaned in and placed a gentle brush across his lips. It was a gesture that had become so common, so easy, she was a bit taken aback when the kiss had progressed into something deeper. The fingers that caressed the sides of her face, the hands belonging to the man that sparked her heart aflame, pressed into her skin. She could almost feel the somatic tingling transferring from his fingertips into her cheeks, and it sent shivers up her spine.  


She tipped her head back, her lips departing his for the briefest of moments before returning like a wave, crashing back into the sea of emotions and the simmerings of teenage lust. Each time her lips left his, her eyelashes would flutter and she would catch his expression. His eyes were tightly shut, as if he were focused on keeping his control caged, but the way his lips were pursed out for her was something teetering on animal.  


Betty was the one to break the kiss for good, taking the time to gaze into Jughead’s eyes. Up to this point in their relationship, they had kept the flavor tame, mild, the temperature just warm enough to produce a faint flush across their cheeks with each peck they shared. This gaze felt _different_.  


There was something darker, something _carnal_ about the way he looked back at her, his eyes dilated nearly two sizes and black under the shadowed path that wove through the trailer park. In an instant that took Betty’s own breath away, she reached out for his hand and led him toward the parked truck. Though their pace was normal, even a bit slower than usual, there was a sense of urgency driving them forward, an extra bit of lift in Betty’s feet as she rushed them along.  


Once Jughead climbed inside and leaned over to unlock the passenger door for Betty, she hopped in, feeling the emotions within her heat up and wriggle in her stomach like worms. Without a word and barely without a thought, Betty crawled over the seat that suddenly felt much too big and slithered across and around Jughead’s lap, landing less than graciously.  


For the first time in what felt like years, Betty didn’t give a damn about grace.  


She pushed herself into the firm muscles of his chest, her hands rising up to rest just below his collarbone, her lips resuming their assault against his with a fervor that was so unlike the blonde-haired sweetheart of Riverdale. If Jughead was taken aback, he certainly didn’t play the role of the fool, feeding into her sensuous actions with a tempo that was met beat by beat.  


His hands, where once were rested on seat of the truck, almost as if afraid of what they could do, finally broke free from his initial hesitations and danced their way up Betty’s back, one coming to rest on the side of her ribs, the other gripping the base of her neck.  


The two of them began a rhythm, the one composed by the lovers from stories centuries old. Lust – a tale old as time. Betty slowly rolled her hips into his lap, not quite grinding, just a light touch, a whisper of the dirty thoughts rolling around the fog of her brain. Jughead tightened his hold on the back of her neck, and the hand around her side eased its way up, forming a trail leading to her collarbone. He traced the side of her breast and Betty shuddered.  


She pulled back, looking into his eyes, sending him a signal of an equal mix of unattenuated desire and excited fear. His eyes, level with her heaving chest, traveled up, meeting hers with his own brand of passion smoldering around his sea of blue. They reminded Betty of the ocean at night, inviting yet dangerous, never leading on to the sinister depths beneath the surface. In that moment she both felt afraid of Jughead and encouraged by the melting that was beginning to occur just beneath her belly.  


It only took a second for her to realize she wanted to take the plunge.  


She launched herself back into him, an unspoken vow of trust between the two. Jughead, always more aware of Betty than she realized, read her signals and took the fingers that traced the side of her breast and curved them around, cupping her softly, taking in the rough denim of her jacket, the soft silk of her flowered camisole, the gentle cotton of her bra underneath, and the perfect porcelain of her skin just below. Betty let out a low moan, covered by his mouth, and suddenly a frenzy began.  


He pushed back the lapels of her jacket and brought both hands to cup a breast apiece, and soon Betty could feel the peaks of each rising beneath her clothing. Anxious to feel his skin against hers, daring to drive him just as wild as he was driving her, she drug her hands down the scratchy surface of his sweater and back up underneath, brushing the tips of her fingers against the hot expanse of his skin. She could feel Jughead tense up, his abs flexing in, but quickly he relaxed and fed into the moment as his hands on her chest began to turn and twist, squeeze and stroke.  


Their mouths, once dancing an innocuous waltz, turned into a tumultuous tango, their tongues invading and pressing, exploring each other like a cave with so much to discover. Betty could taste the familiar flavor of Jughead, something so unique she couldn’t describe, but she felt so consumed by it that she could never imagine sampling anything else for the rest of her life.  


After her simple moan from earlier, she had opened up the gates for more, delivering small sounds of tremor, exchanging little groans from her to him through inviting mouths. He eventually replied to her soft cries, half-mumbling sweet nothings, half-moaning in response to her body moving against his.  


Their teenage touches were quickly moving into adult territory as Jughead left her breasts and moved his hands down to her hips. In answer, Betty began to move deeper, turning the innocent sweep against him into a grind, rubbing her warm and well-awakened core against his groin. She could feel him come alive below, and though she knew common decency would call for her to blush, the thought of him hard and hot beneath her drove her mad.  


As she continued the rolling of her hips, Jughead’s fingertips dug into her flesh, nearly bruising, and she knew he was going crazy too. The hem of her skirt had begun riding up against the friction of his lap, and the only thing separating them was the simple zipper of his jeans and the thin barrier of her damp panties.  


Slowly, Jughead slid one of his hands down lower than her hip, traveling against the flushed skin of her thigh, detouring toward the apex where her long legs met her lithe body. Without warning, the tip of his index finger brushed against the heat below, almost like a whisper, and Betty bucked against him.  


She threw her head back, but before she could submit to wild abandonment, she let out a disappointed sigh.  


“Juggie…”  


Jughead’s lips settled for of the column her neck, licking down along the length before placing a series of firm kisses along the surface. At the sound of this new version of his name, breaking free from her mouth followed by a soft moan, Jughead let out a frustrated groan. Betty could feel him begin to stiffen and his movements slowed, and she knew he could understand what she was trying to say.  


“I think, maybe, we should take a minute here,” Betty practically sighed out, still flushed with arousal. She brought one hand up to her hair and ran her fingers through the strands. Jughead watched her intently, following every motion with keen eyes glistening with the glaze of desire. She wasn’t sure if he was waiting on her for a green light to continue or the sign that he should try to resurface and break free from the hazy web of lust they had woven in the seat of FP’s truck.  


They had never really discussed getting to this place in their relationship. Neither of them were unintelligent to the progression of affection that comes with coupling, especially with the inevitable burst of hormonal drive that accompanies their teen years. Still, there was a vast difference between knowledge and application, and Betty suddenly felt way too uninformed to be making any sort of decisions that went beyond the minor playful urges they had up to this point.  


As much as being with Jughead had ignited a flame she didn’t know was out, she still had to adjust to thinking of her friend in this light. With Archie, she had spent so many nights practicing out these fantasies in her mind; it almost became easy because it was safer when she was daydreaming about someone who was unobtainable. Deep down, Betty knew by the time high school began, her future with Archie was hanging on by a few simple threads. Once Veronica had arrived on the scene, most of those threads were snapped short, and Betty was left hanging on by one thin fiber.  


Betty had decided to make the choice to cut that last thread herself, realizing the only way she’d be able to move on with the remaining shreds of who she was would be by being the one to step away from the fantasy she had created, from the dreamlike reality she had latched onto for so many years.  


She never imagined just behind the façade of a dream, that curtain of built up feelings that fizzled into nothing, would be the love of a lifetime waiting patiently for her to emerge from her slumber and fly.  


Betty leaned down and landed a soft caress against Jughead's lips, hearing his soft sign and smiling, despite herself, at the wonder they had woven between the two of them there in FP's truck.  


A mere whisper of surrender, giving in to the fears of Alice Cooper and her restrictive curfew, Betty spoke, her forehead still pressed lightly against his, "Take me home, Jughead?"  



	16. OUR FIRSTS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in this fic. I have spent so much time trying to finesse and perfect "Fade Into Me," that this fic took a bit of a back seat for a while. I am back with new updates, and hopefully they will come sooner rather than later.
> 
> This is set just after the scene at Pop’s after the party when Betty shows Jughead her scars. I know we all love the trailer kitchen scene, however I’ve often wondered if they ever had a conversation beforehand about where their relationship was heading physically, or if they were just swept in the moment after exchanging “I love you’s.” For the sake of this fic, I went with option one. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**OUR FIRSTS**

\-------

Despite being an incredibly self-aware individual, Jughead had to admit there were moments where he could be incredibly dense. When he was sitting in the theater earlier with Betty, entrenched in the classic 1981 John Landis film _An American Werewolf in London,_ one hand snug around her shoulder and the other lost in a bucket of warm buttery popcorn, he had no idea how the evening’s turn of events would occur.  


It began innocently enough, though not without irritation on Jughead’s part. He had hoped to secure his plans with the time-honored tradition of catching a double feature at the local movie theater, the Bijou, with Archie in the most silent of ways – a stealth mission so subtle he could avoid the awkward circumstance of his girlfriend finding out. It’s not that Jughead enjoyed omitting things in his conversations with Betty. They had the most honest relationship out of anyone he knew, just short of Archie as the redhead had a few extra years on Betty in the friendship department. Jughead just wasn’t a fan of celebrating a time in his life that reminded him of so many years past filled with arguments, cheap boxed cake, and his father stumbling around drunk in “celebration.” With his mother and sister gone, Jughead felt there was less reason than ever to honor another year older. _Shouldn’t those moments be spent with family?_ It was a painful reminder of what Jughead was without.  


The addition of a girlfriend in his life was territory that Jughead was overwhelmingly unfamiliar with. Luckily, the drama of hunting for Jason’s murderer had left Jughead and Betty with less time to contemplate the acceptable societal expectations of teenage dating. Instead, they sort of played it by ear, spending the moments with each other as they came rather than question if they were doing this “dating” thing right. However, as Jughead discovered the night of his 16th birthday, they each had expectations of their own that they had subconsciously settled on.  


Betty, being purely Betty, had uncovered the truth of Jughead’s birthday and orchestrated a surprise birthday party with a handful of students they had associated with, Jughead less so than his blonde girlfriend. Betty considered the gesture the mark of a “good girlfriend,” fulfilling this subconscious desire to be cookie cutter, to be perfect despite her aversion to the word. Jughead, on the other hand, immediately put up his walls, the familiar tactic he took when he began to lose trust in someone. He had been so sure Betty knew the type of person he was. He feared the moment when he would have to spell it out for her, when he would have to reveal who he really was. He worried once her blinders were off, she’d be less impressed with who he was and she’d turn away from him. They had always been friends, and she’d been comfortable with his personality in that capacity, however this new side of Jughead, this _romantic_ side left him vulnerable and clueless. What if they weren’t compatible, what if there were too many differences for their interests to compensate for?  


Despite Betty’s good intentions, the plan had fallen apart, and they’d been left to deal with the uncomfortable proposition of coming clean with each other. That night, they laid bare their insecurities, had opened themselves up to rejection, and had managed to stay put in their relationship, neither quick to walk away.  


Though that’s not to say Jughead didn’t consider it. The more he reflected back, the more he realized that it wasn’t the anger and irritation that Betty didn’t know who he was that bothered him. It was the notion that, despite their ability to be frank and open with each other, if Betty looked beyond the beanie he wore to see the darkness within, Jughead worried she’d never be able to see the good in him again. Inside his head lived fear – fear of being rejected, fear of being inadequate, fear of being less than someone else. All of these fears haunted him in the walls of his family’s trailer, haunted him when he and Archie had played with Betty throughout their childhood. If he wasn’t good enough for his mother to stay behind, if he wasn’t good enough for his father to stay sober, how could he ever be good enough for Betty in something as trivial as teenage love? When compared to Archie, how could he compete in Betty’s eyes with the boy who saw the world through rose-colored glasses despite his hardships, like watching his parents separate and falling into a forbidden and impossible tryst with a teacher? Archie always did his best to stay positive, the perfect polished Ken to Betty’s Barbie. They didn’t make dolls like Jughead.  


To outside appearances, there was nothing special about Jughead Jones, and he had serious doubts that it was any different on the inside.  


So he ran from her, fled the scene of the chaos inside Archie’s house and the frat-boy set up within where Betty sat, crushed with the weight of Chuck’s confession and her own insecurities of how the school would perceive this new side of Betty, a _dark_ side of Betty. In a moment of complete self-serving pity and disappointment in himself, Jughead bolted, only to be brought back to his senses by his own father, in a wild twist of events. Jughead would never have guessed that FP, the man he had witnessed for years drowning his problems with endless bottles of booze, would be the one to push Jughead back to what was right, back to Betty.  


FP was correct. Things were different with Betty. He had something good with her, despite his deep down dark concerns that he would never be good for her. As he had learned later that night, there was a part of him that was actually good for her, that was enough for her to put her anxiety aside and remain calm. When she had exposed her palms, scarred over with fresh silver dash marks, she had revealed not only a dark habit of release that she felt a secret shame for, but that since their coupling, she had found no cause to dig her nails into her flesh for control. He had settled something inside of her, accepting of who she was underneath the veil of “perfection,” and now accepting of her sin for self-harm. It wasn’t that he was encouraging of her habit, but he understood her dark need to find authority over all of the stress and anxiety that she faced daily – her mother, her grades, the weight of the never-ending expectations that she breathed under. He embraced, perhaps more willingly than he would like to admit, that she had a darkness within her too. They both had their edges, but together they found they could smooth them out.  


After their shared milkshake at Pop’s, Jughead had offered to drive Betty back home. Their ride was silent, but they held hands as they passed through the shadowed streets of Riverdale, Jughead lovingly fingering the silky streaks on the inside of her palm. When they were passing the park in Betty’s neighborhood, she tightened her grip in his hand and muttered, “Stop, Jug.”  


He slowed the truck down, pulling over toward the curb. Once he put the gear into “park,” he turned to face her.  


“What is it, Betty?”  


She continued to look out the window, a look he couldn’t quite decipher spread across her brow. After a brief inhale, she answered, “I’m not ready to go home yet.”  


He nodded to himself, waiting for her to continue. After a beat, she proceeded, “My mom isn’t expecting me yet. She saw us leave for Pop’s outside Archie’s house.” She turned to face him, a little glimmer of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s not often I get a free pass from Alice Cooper. We should take advantage of it.”  


With that, she snapped open the passenger side door of the beat-up pickup, running out through the park on an impulsive whim, her ponytail bouncing around in the chilly breeze of the midnight air. Jughead chuckled to himself, briefly lost in the sight of her being so carefree after their night of heavy discussion and revelation. She was so incredibly beautiful, her green doe eyes shining like beetles under the moonlit sky as she turned around to face him.  


There wasn’t a chance in Hell he wasn’t going to join her, even if it meant leaving behind the warmth of the truck for the bitter cold of the outdoors.  


He thrust open the door of the truck and shoved himself out, slamming the door shut behind him as he took off to meet her. His hair, left uncovered and naked after he had stripped himself of his treasured beanie at the diner, bristled at the cold, but the adrenaline of the moment kept him warm and alive. He slowed his steps down just as he was approaching her and he watched as the puffs of hot breath came tumbling out of her lips. She looked breathless and wild, as if this free evening out gave her license to lose all sense of decency and order. She pulled out her ponytail, releasing the strands of gold into the abyss of dark sky, and when combined with the yellow crown on her sweater, Jughead thought she must be a queen.  


She twirled around once, twice, taking in the moment, as free as he’d ever seen her. When she had come full circle, her feet slowing just as her body faced his, he took a step forward and caught her lips with his.  


The kiss was warm, soft, and comforting – a heated beacon in a sea of frosted air. His hands came to cup her cheeks, brushing his thumbs against the surface flushed rosy with cold and energy. When they pulled back, Betty smiled and reached up to grab his hands, leading him to a set of swings nearby.  


Their feet crunched against the frost that had grown on the grass overnight. The darkness of the night, though usually scary and unknown, was inviting and mysterious this evening – the promise of freedom swirling around the mist. They sat next to each other in the swings, both of them kicking up tiny pebbles in the dirt with their shoes.  
Betty began to pick up speed, thrusting her hips back and forth more sharply to gain momentum. Jughead watched as she carried on through the air, her strands of silken hair trailing behind as she tipped her head back to welcome the chill of winter. The skin on her face, matched with her smile, showered her in sparkles under the blanket of the stars above.  


“Be careful you don’t hit the moon, there, princess.” He chuckled.  


She tipped her head back further to make eye contact with him as she continued her pendulum-type motion. “Come on, Jug. Afraid of heights?” She wiggled her eyebrows at him in challenge.  


“No, I think I just prefer the view from down here.” There was a hidden depth in his words, a film of desire beginning to form over him as he watched her come alive at night with this new zest for adventure.  


“Is that so?” she teased, slowing her motion to bring her back down to earth. “What’s so great about the view, Juggie?”  


He grunted, but couldn’t quick shake the huskiness in his voice. “I would think it would be quite obvious, Betts.”  


Her swing came to a soft stop as her feet drug across the dirt and planted. She stood slowly, purpose written across her face, and she stepped over to face him. His position remained on the swing, but his grip on the seat chains tightened in response to her expression. There was a darkness layered just beneath the green, a haze of lust Jughead remembered seeing that night in the trailer park parking lot. His belly flexed and excitement spread through his veins. She leaned down to kiss him, placing her hands just above his on the chains for support. The embrace took a fast curve, the lip-lock becoming deeper and headier by the second. His tongue traced the outline of her upper lip, asking for permission to enter the warmth of her mouth, and she granted him access, leaning into the kiss with her whole body. On a whim, Jughead reached out to grasp her hips, providing her with support while allowing himself the chance to feel her curves molded into his hands.  


Betty whimpered at his touch and immediately Jughead found her in his lap as she inched forward and straddled him in the swing. For a moment, Jughead worried their combined weight would spell disaster for the playground equipment, but that all dissipated when he felt Betty begin to swing her hips into his, creating a rocking motion that made his blood boil with need. Her arms came around his neck, deepening their embrace, and suddenly Jughead felt himself begin to tilt back. His legs snapped down to the ground, grinding into the dirt to halt their swinging motion, frantic to maintain their balance while continuing their heated convergence. Their tongues, now completely merged, dived and resurfaced, their faces changing angles with the reckless need to see just how close they could get.  


Jughead could feel Betty’s chest pressed flush against his own and it caused him to feel an uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. The thought of her often overwhelmed him with lust in his private moments alone, but the mere knowledge that she was there with him, her hips rolling like waves over his own pelvis, nearly tipped him over the edge into animal territory. He reached for a handful of her hair and pulled it back, not so much as to hurt her but enough to force her neck forward for him to leave a trail of tender kisses. He found one spot just above her collarbone that had her hips bucking into his while he sucked, and he committed the spot to memory, a faint smirk appearing on his lips.  


Betty’s fingers dipped in and out of the curls at the base of Jughead’s neck. It wasn’t often his hair was so exposed for her to explore, and she took advantage, tugging and twirling his tresses with her index and middle digits. Her lips were swollen and bruised, but still she managed to pant out in small clouds as he worked his way across the expanse of her neck and down just below the hem of her sweater line. With his other hand, Jughead found his way underneath the warmth of her top, and when his cold fingertips brushed against the hot surface of her stomach, she swayed back, inhaling sharply against the contact.  


After a moment, she arched back into him, the contrast of cold and hot turning both of them on even more. His hand traveled up the length of her torso, landing just above the surface of her right breast, his fingers dipping below the cup to find her taut and aroused. He pulled the cup down and twiddled her nipple in between his thumb and index finger, cheered on by the frequency of her moans in his ear. He leaned his head back to watch as her mouth formed a soft “O,” the pleasure of his touch beginning to take its toll.  


“Juggie…” she whispered, and he let out a wild groan into the night air. She looked wild and reckless straddling him, her sweater pushed up just above her navel as his hand worked its magic on her breast. Her hips swayed back and forth into his, a dance they were still exploring, but as Jughead began to discover, they were quick learners. Through their grind, they started to tip into new territory.  


As he watched her, overcome with the feel of his touch on her chest and the pressure of his bulge against the aching apex between her thighs, Jughead couldn’t believe how so much had changed between them in such a short period of time. It seemed like it had only been days since Betty had turned away from her previous fantasies of Archie, once led astray by her childhood expectations only to find her best friend and neighbor was simply not meant for her. It felt like only moments since Jughead had found the courage to climb up to her window, breaking down the metaphorical barricade her mother had built after their stunt at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, to kiss her for the first time. Now here she was, writhing in ecstasy courtesy of his own hands, his own lips, his own body. The inadequacies he had felt when standing next to the image of physique perfection, Archie Andrews, had melted away when he realized Archie would never have Betty like this.  


_Damn, he really missed out._  


Feeling a bit adventurous, Jughead’s mouth found one of Betty’s earlobes, and he traced the edge of the supple flesh with the tip of his tongue, pulling it inward toward his mouth in a soft suckle. When he heard the depth of her moan, felt the way she ground even deeper into his groin, he knew he had hit jackpot.  


One of Betty’s hands fell limp from his hair, landing softly against the firm planes of his chest on the outside of his coat. It traveled inward, seeking the warmth of the sheepskin downy inside, though it appeared the course had changed as she began to search downward, coming to land right above the buckle of his jeans. Jughead’s stomach tightened in response, anxious with nerves and heady expectation.  


He let go of her earlobe, disconnecting to pull back and look into her eyes. There was a question there, just below the surface. She hesitated over the snap of his pants, searching his face for any sign of rejection. When she found none, because he would have rather cut off his own limbs than say no to this moment, she slid her hand an inch down to begin tracing the outline of his prominent bulge. His head tipped back, a groan dying on his lips. The thought of Betty’s soft tender fingers caressing his hard thick flesh above the surface of his jeans was driving him crazy. They hadn’t come quite this far, Betty not quite this comfortable with touching him, before in their relationship. Even their brief affair after confronting FP wasn’t quite as thick with lust and sexual tension as this moment. He could practically feel the slick front of her panties through her jeans as visions of her wet and wanting clouded his mind.  


It was inevitable that eventually the two of them would find themselves in a position to take their relationship further, into deeper and more intimate waters. Jughead had to push back the urge to move fast, the side of his personality that screamed dominance and possession overturned by his need to make sure Betty felt comfortable with the pace they were going. He could admit that thoughts of her, what she might look like naked, what she might sound like coming apart beneath him, kept him up at night. He wasn’t used to having this strong male compulsion to become easily aroused by a single subject, but Betty had consumed him. Whenever Jughead found himself in a physical place where he wouldn’t be embarrassed by these typical teenage urges, his lifestyle constantly keeping him in flux, he would settle into a spot and think about her, giving into the temptation to slip his hand just below his boxer hem to stroke and bring himself over the edge.  


He wondered if his pretty-in-pink girlfriend ever had the same late-night inclinations. The thought of Betty, polished by day and minx in the sheets at night while thinking of him, made him even harder.  


Betty inched along his length, circling around with her fingertips down along his thigh where he rest underneath, twitching slightly at the prospect of her touching him. When she came back up to the top of his jeans, she formed a “C” with her fingers and gripped him softly through his jeans.  


“Ugh, Betty –“ he grunted. He knew this was going to become an embarrassing situation for him very soon if she kept touching him the way she was, if she kept watching him with heavy, hazy eyes. Jughead swallowed the ball of spit that had formed in his mouth, and suddenly it became very dry inside.  


He let out a weighted exhale.  


“Baby, we need to stop.”  


He could feel her hand cease its movement, frozen on top of him, though that was nearly worse as the pressure of her hand was closing down on his crotch. He looked up and could see she looked confused, if not a bit taken aback.  


Immediately, he sought to console. “Trust me, Betty, it’s not because I don’t want you to go further.” He groaned as he leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, whispering, “God, I want you to go further. I just don’t want to rush this, especially not in some neighborhood park.”  


He could feel Betty’s nod and felt instant regret when she stood, relieving him of the familiar weight of her body against his. She found her seat in the swing next to him and she swayed softly, looking a bit at a loss for words.  


Jughead told himself to continue, wanting to say the right things to make her know just how much he wanted her, how much he wanted it to be right between the two of them. Betty deserved love and candlelight and romance, and while Jughead was coming to the swift conclusion that he was falling in love with Betty, he wanted all of the components of the night to be special.  


“Betty, I think it’s pretty obvious how much I want you. And… I think I know that you want me too.”  


Her head snapped up to cut him off, but he continued, “Scratch that, I _know_ you want me too.” He watched as her face relaxed and she nodded, happy at his correction and the change in his habit to doubt a positive motive. “I just want that moment to be special – for both of us.”  


“I want the same thing, Jug,” she replied, her head softly coming up to face him. “This… this thing,” she gestured between their two bodies, “is just making me go a bit crazy. I just feel like I’m the only one going crazy over here, Jughead. I can’t even stop my hands from shaking.”  


Jughead reached over, grasping her hand tenderly, and he could see she was trembling with both cold and need. He sighed softly, “Betty, you’re not the only one going crazy.” He took a deep breath and prepared himself for his confession. “I think about you all the time, in more ways than just kissing.” He gulped.  


“But with all of this other shit going on – Jason’s murder and all the possible involvement of your parents and my dad, the drama with the drive-in – I just want to devote time for just _us,_ you know?” He rubbed the outside of her hand with his thumb, trying to soothe her anxiety. “You mean a lot to me and I want… I want our first time to mean something.” He could feel the blush raking across the expanse of his face.  


He looked into Betty’s eyes and watched as she lit up, a smile inching its way across her lips. She cleared her throat. “Have – have you ever…?” She trailed off but Jughead could catch the gist of what she was asking.  


He scoffed. “No. Come on, Betty. When would I have had the time to find anyone in this town who thought me worthy enough to sleep with? Who would I have even shown interest in? I got lucky with you.”  


This time, Betty’s grip on his hand tightened reassuringly. “We both got lucky, Jug.” She sighed, as if verging on the edge of a sore subject. “I guess I always just had this vision in my head of what it would have been like with…” she hesitated, “with Archie. With you, everything is so different. There’s fire and passion and I feel like I can be my true self with you. I don’t need the flowers and the candles and the soft music. I just need you.”  


It was a plea so soft, it stirred a low ache in Jughead’s heart. He smiled and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her softly just below the knuckle. “Then we will do our own thing, made just for us.” He chuckled, “I just don’t think a cold pitch-black park is the place we want to have that moment.”  


She laughed softly with him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  


\-------  


Shortly after, Jughead had managed to get Betty home safely and in the comfort of her own warm shelter. He slipped over next door to Archie’s, tripping over half-empty beer cans and strewn-about streamers that littered the floor of the entryway. By this point, it was verging on five am, and Jughead knew sleep would not come. He was still too wound up with his nocturnal activities with Betty.  


He made his way into the kitchen, dodging the obstacle course of trash along the way, and began the first pot of what would be many cups of coffee that morning. As he settled back into one of the cushy comforters in the living room, beanie back on his head and coffee mug in hand, ready to dive into the latest paperback from the library, he reflected back on his night with Betty. In just the span of the evening, they had come so far and made some serious work of the walls they had up from before.  


As he sipped his coffee, remembering their talk about their future, Jughead felt the overwhelming glow of hope.


	17. I LOVE JUGHEAD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, another chapter coming at you, short and sweet. I've been meaning to post this sooner, but life sometimes gets in the way, you know? The good thing is that my additional degree program that I've been busting ass for is winding down and I have less than a month, which means I'll soon have plenty of time to devote to completing "Snapshots" and the other handful of WIPs I have on my computer. Some angsty-fluff, some naughty and spicy -- I can't wait to share!
> 
> This chapter comes from Betty's perspective, in between the argument with the parents and her text conversation with Archie before going out to look for Jughead. I always wondered when Betty knew for sure that she loved Jughead, and this was my way of exploring that a bit further. I apologize for the short amount of words, but I promise longer chapters will be coming in the (hopefully) near future.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking through me with this fic. It was my first in the fandom and holds a special place in my heart because of that. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

**I LOVE JUGHEAD**

\-------

No matter how much Betty loved her mother, she knew chances were slim that she and Alice Cooper would ever see completely eye to eye.  


After she had slammed the door shut on their latest argument, Betty flung herself on top of her bedsheets, absolutely at a loss for action. Her boyfriend was somewhere out in the cold night air of Riverdale, most likely suffering at the prospect of his father locked away for a crime he had been so convinced was beneath FP’s doing.  


She could still remember their last encounter. Jughead had been angry with her, the look of mistrust and shock shadowing his face under the dim lights of the high school hallway. When she closed her eyes, Betty could still see the tremble in his hands as he fought to stay calm. When Kevin had bounded down the cold, squeaky tiles of the hall, news of FP’s arrest anxious to leave his lips, Betty knew Jughead’s thin line of control was quick to snap. After Fred Andrews confirmed the charges, Betty could only shut her eyes and fight against the flood of tears that threatened to spill.  


It was only seconds later that Jughead took off, her hot on his trail, and burst through the front doors of the school, running down the sidewalk too quick for Betty to catch.  


Betty reached back toward the head of the bed and brought a pillow over her lips, screaming into the memory foam. She would trade back the whole night just to revisit their moment earlier in the gym, when Jughead had confessed his nervous excitement at the prospect of their parents meeting, the promise of their future lying just beneath the context. She regretted not telling him then and there that her mother was suspicious of his father, but Betty had made the mistake of underestimating Alice Cooper. She had no idea her mother would set out a trap for the Jones men to fall right into.  


Betty turned over onto her stomach, the tight silken material of her gown bunched up along her side. She considered getting up to change, but now that she was laying against the familiar comforting coolness of her own bedsheet, Betty felt like she was free enough to finally let out her pent up frustrations. The tears began to burn just below the surface of her eyelids, and she let them fall, tracing down her cheeks and leaving a trail through her powdered foundation.  


Betty felt absolutely helpless. Jughead had made it clear he didn’t want any more of her help, and even if he was receptive to her assistance, she had no idea what she could offer that would help FP out of this predicament. For once, Betty was at a loss for investigative intervention.  


Though she meant what she had told Jughead, that she trusted him and trusted his judgment when it came to his father, Betty couldn’t deny there was a part of her that was still suspicious of Jughead’s dad. There was too much evidence to point to Serpent involvement, including Jason’s getaway car filled with supplied narcotics. She wanted FP to be innocent, for Jughead’s sake. Betty couldn’t ignore, though, the inkling within her gut that told her the Serpent leader was involved in some capacity in the death of Jason Blossom.  


She continued to shed tears, watering the thin fabric of her pillowcase. After running into Archie and Veronica at Pop’s earlier, hesitant to hear them out, they all finally agreed that they needed to plead their case to someone. Archie and Veronica explained that they had turned up empty-handed when they were sent by Alice to search FP’s trailer earlier in the night before the dance. There had been no gun to be found, and yet one had appeared in time to arrest FP. Despite her suspicions about the Serpents, Betty knew this convenient turn of events also looked shady and questionable.  


They had to find Jughead, but he refused to answer their phone calls. Though she desperately wished he would pick up the line, she couldn’t blame him. In his mind, they had betrayed him all, and it was too easy for him to slip into that role of loner that he was so familiar with. She knew he would isolate himself from them, but for how long she didn’t know.  


Instead, the threesome went with the next best option and sought out Fred, her parents, and Hermione at the Andrews residence. They tried to reason with the adults, explaining the odd coincidence surrounding the sheriff’s investigation into FP and their most recent search of his property. Neither were open to their interpretation that FP was innocent, convinced if not of his involvement in Jason’s death but in his guilt revolving around other crimes. They took his confession as truth, and for the second time that night Betty was surprised by her mother, taken aback by her unwillingness to look further into the shifty circumstances of FP’s arrest.  


Betty and Veronica had disbanded, a reluctant Veronica following Hermione back home to their apartment and Betty trudging along behind Alice to their house next door. Betty and her mother had gotten into another heated discussion, and Betty had fled to the sanctuary of her bedroom.  


And here she was, sobbing into her sheets, hoping beyond hope that Jughead could find it within himself to forgive her, and that she could drum up an idea that might improve his father’s case.  


Betty twisted off of her stomach to stare up at the ceiling. The light was painfully bright, and the tightness of her bunched up gown was becoming uncomfortable. She slid off of her mattress, reaching back to unzip her gown as she stepped toward her dresser. For propriety’s sake, Betty considered hanging her gown back up in her closet or dangling it securely over the back of her armoire chair. However, Betty didn’t feel quite like bending to the will of her mother tonight, and she left the garment laying in a limp pile on the floor.  


She dug into her drawers for a pair of comfortable sleep shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt. She slipped them on absentmindedly, going through the motions, anxiety riddling her veins. She felt jittery, on edge, feeling less inclined to go to sleep and more interested in making sure Jughead was safe. She stared down her phone as it lay on the surface of her bedspread, taunting her with its silence. She knew she’d give anything just to hear the sound of his voice.  


She crawled over the covers, settling in amongst the pillows with her phone now in her hand. She considered reaching out to Jughead, but knew he would most likely send her to voicemail.  


She knew she had to try though.  


She slid her finger over the screen, lighting up the interface for her to select the telephone app. She clicked on the top number, her most recent call, and brought the receiver to her ear. She waited as the ring came through, once, twice, her fingers drumming on her bent knees in haste and impatience. Just before the third ring began, it went to voicemail and she could hear the familiar edge to Jughead’s voice, instructing the caller to leave a brief message that he _might_ get around to returning – if he felt like dealing with people.  


She tossed her phone back down into the sheets before retrieving it again, not quite ready to let it leave her grasp. Eventually he would have to answer. They would have to speak. They were bound to run into each other again.  


Betty sighed, leaning her head back into the pillows as she willed herself to relax. There was no use worrying over what she couldn’t fix.  


Unfortunately, though, that was never the _Betty_ way, and she wasn’t used to giving up.  


She took a moment to distract herself with thoughts on her conversation earlier with Alice.  


_I said I loved him._ Betty cringed inwardly, wondering if maybe she had let the heat of the moment influence the defiant proclamation she had made in the face of her mother. _Did she love him?_ Betty had to consider.  


For Jughead, Betty felt a myriad of emotions, though all of them led to the same conclusion – she was comfortable with him, like she had never been before with anyone. He was damaged, self-admittedly, but so was she, a wax figure of her mother’s expectations just dying to come alive and be free. Jughead felt like an outsider, had embraced his self-imposed isolation, and though Betty had been friendly with nearly every person she met, there were times she still felt like the only person in the room. When she felt the urge to dig her fingernails into the soft surface of her palm, she was alone with her mind, alone with her shame, no matter how many warm bodies gathered around her in conversation. With Jughead, this feeling had subsided, and suddenly, when the loneliness threatened to spill over and leave her gasping for air, there was another person beside her, helping her breathe.  


Jughead was steadfast, loyal, and honest – all three qualities she admired and did her best to emulate. Most of all, he had stood by her in her darkest moments when she feared for the safety of her pregnant sister, worried about the innocence of her father, and agonized about the crumbling state of her home life. Though Betty still considered Archie to be one of her best friends, his priorities lately seemed to be a little one-sided, and Jughead had really stepped up during his absence. They had always been close friends, but this nurturing and comforting side of Jughead was new. He still found ways to surprise her, even after a decade of friendship.  


Lately, their threshold for intimate touch had grown, and Betty often lay awake at night, imagining what it would be like to take their relationship further into deeper waters. She was tethered to his emotions, feeling what he felt, thinking what he thought, a type of connection she wasn’t used to having with anyone else. Was this love – the unending trust, the loyalty, the ability to empathize with each other’s darkness, and the passionate drive to touch and feel the sizzle of their skin against each other?  


Betty had to think it was. She had to admit her confession to her mother had been just that – a confession. Though the inclination had been there in her mind under the surface, it wasn’t until she said the words out loud that she realized she truly meant them.  


_What do you do for someone you love that’s in distress?_ Betty asked herself, twiddling her thumbs over her phone screen. She closed her eyes, willing the answer to come into focus. Suddenly, she flip them open, eyes wide with conclusion. _You don’t leave them out alone in the cold, that’s for damn sure._  


Betty turned her screen on once more, folding her legs over the edge of the bed in haste. She opened the message app and found Archie’s name. She was quick to type out the words.  


**B:** Arch, I’m worried about Jughead.  


It was clear her next door buddy was sitting up late with the same concerns as his response came in mere seconds.  


**A:** Me too. Let’s go find him.  


With those simple words, Betty launched herself out of bed and reached for the closest sweater set she could find, with jeans and a matching jacket to shield herself from the biting cold.  


She flew down the stairs, careful not to make a lot of detectable noise, not sure if her parents had settled into bed or not. When she turned her head to find the light in the kitchen dim, the soft humming of her mother turning on the faucet, she made sure to tip toe to the front door. She creaked it open, undoing the locks carefully, and once she slipped outside into the dark and cold of the unknown, she took off.  


Betty Cooper was on the hunt, and no one could stop her until she found what she was looking for.


End file.
